


The Treacherous God

by GuyFaux



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 53,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28056567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuyFaux/pseuds/GuyFaux
Summary: This is just a story about life.  I hope you enjoy.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Part 1

I take a deep breath, slowly letting it out as I lean against my front door.

It’s not a sigh, I promise, I just… well, sometimes enjoy the feeling of it. Too much carbon dioxide built up in my lungs, I guess. Whatever, I unlock my door, fumbling with the key and adding another scratch to the sorry looking lock, then step inside. The door is a piece of shit, so I have to push hard in order to reengage the latch.

I throw my coverall over the couch by the door. A two seater, but that only translates into more space for me to curl up in while playing games. I drop a few more items of clothing on my way to the kitchen, until I’m down to boxer shorts and a white undershirt. It’s brisk, but I’m more comfortable this way.

I grab a glass of water, drinking it all in one go, and then refill it as I check my fridge. It’s the same paltry selection that was in there last night. Go figure. I guess the refrigerator fairies neglected to visit. I grab a handful of cheap deli meat for my breakfast and or dinner, eat it in three bites, and wash it down with a gulp of water.

Don’t judge me, alright, it’s better than a bowl of cereal, at least. After that balanced breakfast, it’s off to the shower where the game is “try not to fall asleep before you finish.” I… mostly succeed, although there was a rough go where I found myself slumped against the wall. I’m usually not this tired after work, but for some reason I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. I’ve also been feeling strangely warm… in places. Cold in others.

Hopefully I’m not coming down with anything, though if I am could it kindly wait until after work tomorrow to lay me out. Just one more week and I’ll have kept this job a whole year and never missed a single day of it. That would be… a record.

I… haven’t cared about stuff like that for a long time, but… I’m making the best of things here. I don’t know what else I could do if I screw this up. I shake my head. There’s no time to think like that. I wrap up my shower, then roll into the slightly too small bed in my slightly too small bedroom.

I wish I could say I fell asleep right away. Instead, despite how tired I was just five minutes ago, I immediately start into an elaborate daydream. It’s the… usual sort of fantasy I have, the kind of thing a sensible person wouldn’t disclose. I let it play out to it’s climactic finish, or rather, until it’s worn out a comfortable rut in my mind and finally peters to a stop, then drift to sleep.

And that’s when things get weird. The warmth in my body flares into a fiery heat, burning out my insides and spreading from my abdomen all the way to the crown of my skull. Meanwhile, my hands and feet grow icy cold, numb to touch and dead to my will.

I try to struggle out of bed, desperate for a glass of water, but I find my body is no longer my own. Instead it belongs to a new pain. Something sharp and fierce. If I thought the heat was unbearable, this new sensation has redefined my limits. It feels like I’m being flayed alive. Every inch of my skin screams in agony, a pleasure denied myself as I desperately claw for breath with tortured lungs.

Then a deep, stabbing pain begins a few inches below my navel and spreads. First down through my groin and into my legs, then up my chest and out to my arms. Finally, it crawls up my neck into my skull, and at last, I pass out.

The feeling from my body fades, and I find myself in a strange and terrible dream. An overwhelming presence looms over me. An awesome and inscrutable will dominates my mind. And then I return to darkness and silence.

When I awake I feel… fine? Better than fine, even. My body is pleasantly sore, as though I’d gotten a good workout last night. My limbs and joints feel light, even springy, and the air is fresh in my lungs. It smells awful though. Well, maybe awful isn’t the right word, but very strong. Also, my skin feels… moist, sticky even. And a little heavy. There is an unpleasant coolness, like warmth stolen away.

I’m definitely covered in something. I push away the thought that I somehow managed to throw up over my entire body, and instead roll out of bed onto my feet.

…

Okay… 

This is… wha… I shake my head, a vain attempt to clear away… this. I can’t think about it yet. And I certainly can’t think about the strange feeling I just got… from my ears.

Nope… I should go back to bed. I turn to look at it and regret the choice immediately. It’s soaked in… something. In spite of how bright it is in my room I can’t tell the color. Never mind. No crawling under my sheets in an attempt to forget about my problems. I don’t have the stomach for it.

Instead, I will head to the bathroom, to confront this. I desperately want a shower anyway.

I walk out my room, and across the narrow hallway into my bathroom, ignoring the squelch that accompanies every foot step. Once inside I look into the mirror and see it is just as I feared. I’m at least two feet shorter.

Also… I have cat ears.

Maybe it wasn’t just as I feared. I can’t honestly say I’d even considered the possibility. Now that it’s happened no small part of me is curious to investigate what other cat features I might have. The rest of me, however, is slightly more concerned by the layer of… something all over my skin. I still can’t see color, even though it’s so bright in here. Did I go color blind too?

Or… actually… I look at the lamps above my mirror.

Yeah… okay… that’s surreal. They are off. Even during the sunniest part of the day it’s never this bright in here without the lamps on. I seem to have developed some kind of super night vision. That’s neat.

I look back at the light switch. Part of me doesn’t want to know, but… well… I touch the switch as gently as I can. Once it clicks into place I’m blinded by a terrible flash of light.

I hear a sharp hiss, and jump back, slamming into the vanity cabinet. I squat down, hold up my arms to protect my face and make myself as little as possible.

I hold for a long while, perhaps as much as a minute, tense against some unexpected attack. Eventually my breath slows, and my heart settles. I… I think that hiss came from my own lips…

I start to giggle, and halt immediately. That’s not my voice… at all. Problems for later. For now, my eyes have adjusted to the light filtering through my arms and it’s time to confront my face.

I stand up slowly, rotating again to face the mirror. Yep. Gross. I’m covered, head to toe I expect, in blood. A few loose chunks of meaty skin dangle from my ears. I start to feel a little lightheaded, and lean into the counter. I never was very good with gore.

I shuffle to the shower, throwing back the curtain and cranking it on. I jump in immediately, long before the water has a chance to warm up. It feels like ice on my skin, but I couldn’t care less. If anything, it’s helped bring a little sharpness into my head. I lean against the wall, eyes closed, waiting for the water to warm up.

When it finally does, I risk a small measure of sight once again. The floor of the tub still has a few chunks sitting on it, a little trickle of watery blood seeping into the drain. The are also… other sights, that would bear further investigation, but I can only deal with so many things at once. Instead, I turn my head up, and plunge it into the stream of warm water.

I run my hands through my hair, ignoring more strange new sensations right now than I care to count, and don’t stop until I’m confident at least that there’s no more chunks of… mystery meat. Then, finally, I feel confident enough to confront the rest of the… changes.

I step back from the flow, keeping my head up above eye level. We’re going to do this one little step at a time.

First, my hands. I bring one up slowly into view. It’s… tiny. That’s one way to describe it. Also… covered in fur. Well, the back side is, anyway. My palms have a very thin very thick layer of fine white hairs in a steady gradient to bare skin from my wrists. The backs of my fingers are in a similar way, except they start with a splotchy brown and black fur and end in a set of white claws.

Not altogether unexpected, given the state of my ears. My arms are much the same. The top has a thin layer of the colorful fur, and the underside is covered in that fine layer of white hair. A brief investigation suggests I could call it my undercoat.

Now, on to the rest of my body. I have reason to suspect it’s going to get even weirder.

I take a deep breath and look down.

Yep… that is, in fact, a pair of tits sitting right there. I guess in the grand scheme of things it’s a pretty minor change, but still… weird. They are very small. I don’t know much in the way of breast measurement, but I think they might be something like an A cup. Maybe two ‘A’s? Not sure. In any case, I’m small enough to chair the itty bitty titty committee.

I do an experimental bounce on my toes, and they jiggle a bit. I guess that’s… neat. They lay in a roughly oval shaped patch of bare skin that starts at my face and carries all the way down to my inner thigh. The pale skin is surrounded by a ring of undercoat, that gradually transitions into my… uh, regular fur?

It occurs to me that I’m, well, taking this whole thing remarkably well. Surprisingly, even. I always had a wild imagination, but this is unlike any fantasy I’ve ever indulged. Hell, I always thought girls who wore those wei— uh, those cat-ear headbands looked stupid. I wonder if I’m just having an extremely vivid hallucination.

I shake my head and let out a huff. If this is some kind of delusion it’s too detailed for me to ignore. Anyway, I was in the middle of checking myself out. My undercoat predominates in places that could rub something as I walk, and it’s regular fur everywhere else, except the front, which is mostly bare. A quick check of my cheeks validates the earlier glimpse of my face. I don’t have whiskers or anything like that.

I spread my legs and lean over, looking between them. As I suspected, I’ve got the matched set down below, so I guess that’s cat-girl, emphasis on girl.

I look down to my feet, pulling one up to check the underside. Asides from being tiny, the fur on top, and the claws, they are remarkably, well, normal looking. I don’t really know what I expected, to be honest. My body structure hasn’t changed drastically. The most notable exception would have to be the thing wiggling around on my butt that I’ve been trying to ignore.

I turn around to finally acknowledge my tail. In spite of being, well, maybe not the greatest change—an honor that will likely go to my reproductive system—but still a significant one, the tail is almost painfully mundane. It wiggles according to its own rules, is covered in fur, and is a continuation of my spinal column. In short, it’s a tail.

It does at least represent some new bones… probably. I do a quick stretch to check.

…

And holy shit am I flexible.

It’s not like, one hundred percent real cat feats of bending, I will for instance still need a wash cloth for my back, but I can rest my feet on top of my head, forwards and back. It’s not even hard. I don’t know what to do with this information.

I unroll back into a standing position.

Is that… is that really it? I do one more final check of my body. The only thing I note is that my hips seem a little wide. I’m not at “dat ass” levels of hip to waist ratio, but I do seem to be more… flared out? I’m not sure how to describe it, actually. I’d never really thought about body proportions before. I guess I’m a bit… womanly? Is that the word for it? I wonder if that’s a cat-girl thing or just a female thing.

I frown, and turn off the water. It’s starting to get cold. A small part of me doesn’t like how… how mundane this is. Should I be taking this so indifferently? Even when I first looked at my tail, it was like… well, just that. It was like looking at any other part of my body. I just knew it was mine. I look at it again. Yeah… I can feel it move, vaguely, and with a little focus I can move it around myself. It’s no more exciting than wiggling my fingers.

I throw back the curtain and start to dry off. Hm… I forgot to use soap… shampoo? whatever. I spent all my hot water checking out my body, and none of it cleaning, as evidenced by the watery blood splotching my towel. I’ll have to try again when my hot water recovers. For now I finish as best I can, which isn’t great, and step out of the tub.

My first stop is to climb onto the vanity to get a better look in the mirror. It’s… a little strange, the impression of kneeling so close to a naked woman, but I put it out of my mind and study my face. My eyes are similar to a cats. The pupils are vertical slits, little more than a line with the lights on. The irises are much larger, and a similar hazel color and pattern as before. I can only see white when I look at my eyes sidelong. I could be wrong, but I think they are proportionally bigger compared to when I was a man.

Just to be sure, I make an attempt at puppy dog eyes at myself.

… adorable.

I shake my head. Time for that later. I bring up an exploratory hand to the side of my head. There’s a mixture of blond hair and fur in the space beneath my ears. I just have the one set, placed high up on my head. They are buried in a very normal looking pile of unruly locks. My hair is the same color as before, though about an inch longer. Running my fingers through it reveals that the fur coming up from my back tapers off just below the base of my skull. The ears themselves are perked up, and seem to fidget and turn by their own whims.

They are doing some kind of job for me at least, as I feel uncannily certain about what the various machines in this apartment building are up to and where they are. Like the tail, with a little focus I find I can control them, or at least settle them down.

My nose is tiny, and maybe a little upturned, but if not for the rest of me I don’t think anyone would find it strange, and my lips are the same pale pink color they always were. The inside of my mouth would, I think, make for quite a surprise however.

As expected, it’s all canines. Some are big, some are small, and some look like they might still be useful for grinding, but all of them are sharp and menacing. I give myself a hiss, just for practice, and I gotta say I would not want to get bit by me.

I’m going to want to be careful with my tongue, which, by the way, is kind of rough, and feels strangely dry, though I think that might just be a trick of the texture. I don’t have any trouble spitting into the sink. Except actually, now that I think about it, I’m dreadfully thirsty.

I prowl to my kitchen to hunt down a glass of water, and take a little nibble of sandwich meat while I’m in there. I try not to think about the bloody footprints leading out of my bedroom. They are going to be a pain to clean, to say nothing of whatever horror show nightmare I’m sure my bed looks like right now.

I think I’ll just toss those sheets.

After my… well, far more satisfying breakfast than it had any right to be, I step out of my kitchen and into the wide hallway that passes for my living room. It’s still weird how bright things look while in greyscale. It’s so bright that I think… it… 

My heart skips a beat. This… is not the middle of the day. I run to my room, ignoring the bed and grabbing my phone.

Fuck. Shit. It’s three am. More than halfway though my shift. I was out almost a whole twenty four hours. Part of me feels I have more important things to worry about, but that part isn’t responsible for paying rent. I might have transformed into some kind of beast man, but I have no desire to take up a life in the wilderness.

And hell, I almost never even see my boss. As long as the shift gets covered and the customers don’t complain I could probably have a t-rex cover for me and get away with it. It’s the perfect job for something like this to happen, except whatever force transformed my body wasn’t feeling very courteous. Fucker.

Whatever, I just gotta open my messages and check the damage. There’s only two, from the same number. My boss. One says, “Customer reports missing staff for night shift. Sent Felix to cover.” And another, from a few minutes later just says, “Are you okay?”

Hm. That… isn’t anywhere near as bad as I expected. I mean, I’ve hardly shared more than two words with my boss since I started, so I don’t know him that well. But still, it’s… nice? I guess. I’m not sure. He doesn’t seem disappointed, so I’m not sure how to emotionally process it.

Well, I feel bad, at least, for letting him down. I text him back, “Sorry, became suddenly, violently ill, just woke up.”

I’m sure he won’t get that until morning, but—

My phone vibrates. He… sure got back to me quickly. I check the message. “Need ride to hospital?”

I feel a sinking pit in my chest. Is he trying to catch me out?

I’d love to call his bluff, but I’m not ready to let the cat out of the bag just… yet. That was terrible. I’ll have to punish my self later, for now I reply with, “No, just need to sleep off.” If that’s not good enough, well, whatever. I’m sure I’ll need to get a new job anyway.

I get one more message, and this one looks like the last, for now. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything. See you Monday.”

Hm… did he mean he wants to meet up then or…

I shake my head. Problems for later. Right now I need to clean up, the smell is unbearable.

I start with the bed, finally turning the lights on in my room. I manage to resist the urge to throw up… and push away an even more disturbing feeling.

There are chunks of… well, what can only be described as meat, sitting in a blood soaked pile of sheets and blankets. I stuff everything into a few heavy duty garbage bags, double layered for good measure, and try not to think about the shriveled husks of my old hands and feet. I place those by the door and take the liner off my mattress. It held up surprisingly well. The mattress itself is untouched. Best fifteen dollars I ever spent.

Still, it did its duty, so I send it on the way to its final rest with the other bedding. Before I throw on fresh sheets I spend a few hours scrubbing the bloody footprints in my carpet, then take a real shower. I opt to use shampoo for my fur. Perhaps I should invest in some kind of special cat soap? Not sure. I’m the kind of guy who almost went with nothing but cheap dish soap, so I’m hardly an expert.

When, at last, everything is clean in my apartment, the sun is peeking though the curtains. It’s a strange experience to see color slowly return to your world. I put on a load of laundry just to complete the “spring cleaning” vibe. It is technically late autumn, but I can’t help but feel a sense of new beginnings.

I’m not excited, per se, but I do nevertheless feel a certain… something. I had resolved to just… uh, well, rather, I should say my life has taken a very unexpected turn. I cannot say it is for the worse, but it is definitely on a very different trajectory.

So then, since I’m still resolved to go on living, my first step has to be… hm… I’m not sure. I look down. Still naked. I never got dressed. My fur kept me warm enough that I didn’t notice. Well, hopefully. I’d be rather annoyed if this transformation also changed me into a nudist.

In any case, I realize I have a bit of a conundrum. For starters, none of my clothes are going to fit. I haven’t been this small since I was ten, and that was two decades ago, almost to the day. I also have some doubts about how comfortable it will be to wear something over fur.

I guess comfort doesn’t really matter. I have… an uncanny certainty that it would be best not to be discovered. Visions of white lab coats and vivisections dance in my head. Hard pass.

A quick search of my closet reveals I haven’t got much in the way of choices. I didn’t really keep my c… my old clothes, from before I came to the city. I have a small selection of novelty t-shirts, and my shorts which are sitting on the floor in my front room. Everything else is some kind of underwear.

Looking at it all out in the open, I realize my wardrobe is terrible. Maybe I transformed into a cat-girl so I don’t suffer through another winter wearing entirely too little under my work coverall? Yeah, that’s definitely it.

Well, whatever, new plan. I take a quick catnap while I wait for my laundry to cycle. Once its done I put on my coverall, rolling the legs above my feet, and cinching the waist up so it isn’t dangling by my ankles. I decide to leave the arms flapping past my hands. I walk to the bathroom to check myself out. I’m just short enough to stand on the vanity without bumping my head, though I still have to squat down to see myself in the mirror.

It actually doesn’t look that bad. I mean, in terms of concealing my cat-girl-ness. My ears and eyes are a dead giveaway, though I can throw on my beanie to make them less apparent. I’m not sure what to do about my feet. I look down at them.

… I guess maybe someone could confuse the fur for the top of a shoe, if they didn’t look very closely. I don’t like the idea of walking around barefoot, especially since it’s cold outside, but clomping around in a pair of oversized boots doesn’t sound much better.

I could double up on socks?

Whatever, I just need a temporary solution. Something to get me to the nearest clothing store where I’ll hopefully be able to find a few things that fit without outing myself.

Wh-what kind of clothes should I buy, actually…

I mean, the coverall does a good job of, well, covering all, so I could just use another set. Unfortunately, I’m not sure who sells them in halfling sizes. Hell, I don’t even know where I can pick them up in regular sizes. I got this one from my boss.

I frown. I’ve been treating this like I’ll be keeping my job, I realize, but I’m not sure how realistic that is. For starters, working even another day was contingent on not meeting my boss. If he really does want to see me on Monday it’s not like I could expect to blow him off and still show up for my shift.

Should I come clean? The idea sounds ridiculous. Hell, the idea that I could somehow convince him I’m myself is even more ridiculous.

Still… I don’t know…

He has been, well, not nice, I would say, but, like… he’s kept his distance? Given me space? I’m not sure. He gave me the night shift at the museum without so much as one contrary word, just cut me off mid ramble and said, “Yes, of course.”

Part of me feels like I can trust him.

I mean, it’s the stupid part of me that’s never done anything right, but the feeling is still… hard to resist.

I take a deep breath and shake my head. Let’s worry about that later.

For now I need to choose an outfit that won’t draw too much attention. As much as I love my coveralls, I look like a misplaced trick-or-treater. Maybe something like a loose pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt? That should work, right?

I grab my phone and do a quick search for clothing stores near me. I see one about a mile up the street.

Oh, nice, it’s a budget clothing store, Second to None. That’s a catchy name. They opened an hour ago, so with nothing better to do, I strap on my boots, throw on my cap, and go marching out the door.

I don’t make it to the street before I discover a few considerable problems. No, it’s not that my neighbors paid me any special mind. In a big city like this a little girl walking around in oversized boots and coveralls barely warrants a mention, but rather it has to do with a certain pair of… let’s call them unmentionables.

They are… more sensitive than they used to be, or maybe they’re just poking more into the fabric of my undershirt. Either way, I’ve developed a sudden appreciation for the brassiere. My feet are also very uncomfortable, but it pales in comparison to my troublesome topside.

I wonder if Second to None also carries underwear… only I’m not sure how I feel about wearing a second hand bra. I’d say problems for later, but it’s a really annoying problem for right now. I’ll just trust to hope.

It doesn’t take me long to reach my destination, and thankfully I didn’t get much in the way of strange looks. I don’t mind people thinking I’m a freak, so much, but I think I’d rather avoid getting too much attention on my eyes. No one will believe they’re just contact lenses if my pupils start dilating.

Unfortunately, getting into the store was the easy part. A dizzying array of options is crammed into the narrow aisles of the shop, and they aren’t arranged in any pattern discernible to my fashion illiterate mind. Even as a man this was a terrible struggle.

I let out a deep sigh.

“Can I help you?”

I resist the urge to yelp, but still jump back. There is a young woman standing next to me, who I presume walked over from the now empty checkout counter. You’d think an apex predator would be harder to sneak up on, though I suppose I do have my ears covered up and pressed down by my beanie.

“Ah, sorry,” she giggles. She has a cute voice. “You… just looked a little lost.”

“It’s… fine,” I say. My voice sounds completely foreign, even higher pitched than the sales clerk. I ignore the small part of me that ponders when was the last time I said anything out loud. Maybe to Rusty the security guard after my last shift? Problems for later.

“So… do you need help with anything?” She asks again.

I mean, yes, desperately, but I’m not prepared to ask for it. I shake my head, being sure to keep my eyes towards the floor. I need to buy a pair of sunglasses.

To spare myself further embarrassment I hurry into the depths of the store. I feel her watching me as I disappear behind a crowded rack of shirts, but I’m about ninety percent certain that’s only paranoia.

It isn’t long before I start hoping the young woman will approach again. I’m so totally lost. I don’t even know the questions I need to ask to figure out what kind of help I need. For now I just wander up and down the aisles. Thankfully, this early in the day I’m one of the few people in here, so there’s no one around to judge my feeble attempt at shopping.

Tucked in a far corner, I find, at least, one thing I’m certain I need; an underwear section. Unfortunately, I’m not any less lost now than I was earlier. In fact, I might be even more lost. The only thing I can determine is that I’m not the only one weirded out by second hand under garments. These are all factory fresh.

Beyond that… ?

Do I need to buy panties? It’s embarrassing to even ask, but I realize that I’m not sure if a woman’s underwear needs are different than a man’s. Right now I’m just going commando, though I guess this undershirt is so long that it comfortably rests under my crotch anyway.

Part of me thinks it can’t be too big of a problem. The human race was born without the benefit of cotton briefs, after all. Still, it probably wouldn’t hurt to have a few pairs, or at least some boxers in my new size.

… What is my new size anyway? My hips are definitely narrower, but I haven’t the foggiest idea how much so. I make a quick check of this part of the shop. Part of me was hoping that woman would be nearby. It might be little stalkerish of her, but the temptation to ask for a hand is strong.

Well, whatever. I’m not feeling any discomfort down below, so I can ignore that problem for now.

I wander over to the bras, only to find that I’m stuck in the same predicament, only worse. At least I know the difference between boxers and briefs. Here I’m bombarded with an array of esoteric terms and nebulous letters. What the fuck is a convertible racerback and what am I supposed to do with that information?

I don’t so much wander the bra aisles as pace them, and for how long I can’t say. I’ve found a sudden sympathy for all those rants online raging against the fashion industry. I thought they were stupid as hell, but now that I’m confronted by the problem…

“This is absolute, contemptible bullshit!”

I hear a giggle behind me and my blood runs cold.

“It can be pretty daunting.”

I turn to see the shop clerk. She’s smiling and it’s adorable. There’s also a touch of red on her cheeks, and she seems to have trouble looking straight at me. That’s probably for the best. I quickly turn my eyes back to the floor.

“Is this your first time?” she asks.

“Y-yeah,” I say. It feels like a lie, even though it’s completely true.

She looks around, then says, “A-are you, waiting for your, um, parent?”

I shake my head. “It’s… it’s just me.”

“Oh…” I can feel a sort of understanding in her simple utterance. After a moment of silence between us she adds, softly, “I… I can help… I think.”

I let another long moment pass. I do need her help, at the very least to grab a measuring tape, but… I… I don’t have a good feeling at all. I feel tension rising in my chest, and a strange sensation over my body I assume is hair standing on end.

Still… I dart a glance over to her. She looks at least as nervous as I do.

“Th-thanks,” I say. “I… could really use some.”

“Yes, no problem,” she sounds relieved. Perhaps she was worried she was overstepping. “It… uh, this, can be a very… daunting time in your life. It can’t be easy, having to face it alone.”

I feel my blood run cold. What is she talking about? Did she somehow figure out what happened to me? This can’t possibly be a normal thing to expect.

“Th-this?” I say. “Wh-what do you mean?”

She makes a little noise, something like the cheep of a baby bird, and steps closer. I grit my teeth, and have the sudden certainty that she’s about to reach out and grab me. I scrunch up my sleeves so my claws are ready.

“Ah, well, you know, wh-when a girl, gets to a certain age, and uh…” she vaguely waved her hands.

Oh…

She thinks I’m going through puberty. I look the right age for it. There are certain similarities to my actual situation too.

She also brings up an important point. Am I going to have to worry about… uh… bleeding… on a schedule… I shake my head. That couldn’t be more “problems for later” if it tried.

I give the woman and glance and say, “Yeah, daunting.”

“So, I uh, guess we should, uh, find you something to start with.”

“Just something simple.”

“Of course. Do you know, um, about what size.”

I shrug and unzip the top of my coveralls, turning to the side and pulling my t-shirt tight. “Around that big?”

She chirps again, and takes a half step back. In a moment of panic I think some feline feature is showing, but a quick scan reveals I’m fully concealed, just my nipples poking through the shirt. In retrospect, I realize that was a bit of a mannish way to do that.

“Ah, sorry,” I say, zipping back up.

“N-no, it’s okay. I think I can find something for you.” She rummages through the racks for a few minutes, and then pulls a bra that doesn’t look any different than a cloth band with strings attached, but the label insists it has a cup size.

I take it from her and eye it warily. How the hell do these work anyway?

“D-do you need… to try it on?” she asks.

“A-ah, I- uh,” I look around. Honestly, what I really need is, like, a tutorial. I’m not even sure how I’d ask. I’m sure it would be a lot easier if I could just have her show me, but there are a very large number of problems with that plan.

“I mean, in the changing room,” she says quickly, and points to a hallway tucked in between two racks of shoes.

I feel a glimmer of amusement. After the episode with the coveralls I guess she’s concerned I was about to throw off my shirt in the middle of the store.

“Yes, right,” I say. “I- I was… well…”

“O-oh, you… do need help… putting it on,” She says. A quick glance reveals she’s turned a deep shade of red.

“Just, like, a broad overview, uh, should be fine.”

“Yes, of course,” she says. She takes the bra back, maybe a little too quickly, and motions for me to follow. She explains how the straps work, and how it should feel when I’m wearing it. When we’re in front of the tiny stall she hands the bra back to me and says, “If you have any questions I’ll be right out here.”

I step inside, double checking the door behind me, and look around. I hope they don’t have any cameras in here. I never thought about that when I was a man, I mean, no one would of wanted to peep on me anyway, but now I feel more than a little paranoid, and not just because I’ll have to strip almost completely naked to try on this bra.

Anyway, I don’t see anything suspicious, and I’m pretty sure there’s got to be a law of some kind or another against putting cameras in these things. I guess I could ask?

“Sorry if this is weird,” I say, “But you guys don’t have cameras in here, do you?”

“A-ah, no, not in our shop,” she says.

Does that mean I should be careful in other stores then? Well, whatever, standing around in here is getting awkward. I drop my coveralls and throw off my shirt. Yep, that’s a tiny naked cat-girl standing there. The mirror situation in here is way better than kneeling on my vanity, at least. It’s also nice letting my tail out. It was getting kind of fidgety wrapped around my leg.

Anyway, it takes a few minutes, but I’m able to get the bra into a reasonably comfortable position. It’s not squeezing or pinching anywhere, so that’ll be good enough. I give myself a look in the mirror. I… am not a fan of the no panties look, or, uh, the no boxers look? I wonder if they sell mens’ underwear here too?

“Can I, uh, keep wearing this?” I ask.

“Yeah, just pull the tag off,” she says. “Though maybe you should wash it first.”

She does have a point, it has just been sitting out in the open. Still, an hour or two probably won’t hurt. I’ve already got the other people cooties on me at this point anyway. I take a moment to clip the plastic string holding the price tag. It’s a lot easier with claws. Then I throw my clothes on and step out.

“How’s it feel?” She asks.

I do a quick series of twists, pulling my clothes tight so they rub against me. “Much better,” I say. My undershirt is surprisingly scratchy. I guess that’s what I get for buying the cheapest option at Walmart.

“Ah, g-good, I’m glad I could help,” she says. “Is… there anything else?”

Yes. Definitely. Though part of me doesn’t want to trust her at all. Still, at the very least I’m going to need a measuring tape. I nod.

She smiles. “What else do you need?”

I frown, keeping my head low. “Honestly, everything.”

“E-everything?”

“Y-yeah, everything I can think of, and probably a few things I can’t.” I shrug.

She seems to tense up a little, but doesn’t say anything. She just offers me a hand and leads me out of the dressing room. Our first stop is back in the underwear department. Thankfully there seems to be such a thing as lady boxers.

“Do you know your, um, size?” She asks. Part of her seems to be bracing for another strip show, but I think better of it this time.

I shake my head. I sense something from her. It almost seems like she might be getting angry, but I can’t imagine why.

“Just a second,” she says. A minute or so later she returns with a measuring tape. She has to lean in very close to get my dimensions, so I leave my eyes well out of sight. I take a quick peek at her face. Her nose is scrunched up with effort as she works, her lips slightly pursed.

After checking the area around my waist and hips she rolls onto her heels, resting in a squat. For some reason she’s stopped moving. A quick glance shows she’s studying the tape. She leans in again and double checks.

“Is… is something wrong?” I ask. Are… are girls proportioned differently than women? Am I even proportioned the same as either?

Rather than answer, she turns her gaze up to me for a moment. I don’t dare take a look, but I get the feeling she’s studying me.

“Are you getting enough to eat?” she says at last.

That was not in any way a question I was expecting. I almost turn my bewildered stare in her direction, but catch myself just in time. After hemming for an awkwardly long time, I manage to say, “Why do you ask?”

She seems to diminish a little, but I still sense tension from her. “I-if you’re having problems… at home, or, uh where you live”—she braces herself—“you don’t have to face them alone.” 

Oh, I see. She thinks I’m some kind of abused or neglected girl. I mean, that is the most rational explanation from her perspective.

“A-and,” she continues, “Y-you, don’t have to l-let, this Stephen g-guy, take a-advantage…”

I feel my heart stop, and my skin must drop a few shades. A distant part of my mind idly notes that I still seem to have sweat glands all over my body. The rest of my mind is locked in terror. How the hell does she know my name?

“W-who?” That might be the least convincing denial in the history of mankind.

She huffs, than says, “The cr— the guy who gave you those coveralls.”

I look at my clothes in a daze. Sure enough, there it is, my name sitting on a khaki strip of fabric right where the seamstress put it a year ago, next to the company emblem.

I’m relieved, but also annoyed. She seems to think I’m the victim of, well, myself. I suppose I can’t fault her for the conclusion. As far as she can tell I’m a prepubescent girl who’s never worn a scrap of clothes until I begged, borrowed, or stole this set of coveralls and boots from some guy named Stephen.

Still, I don’t like the idea of, well, the old me getting thrown under the bus as some kind of rapist pedophile.

“It’s not like that,” I say, though it sounds very much like it is like that. “Really. I… got this used…” Off the side of my couch. It’s technically true.

She fidgets uncomfortably next to me, clearly not buying it.

“They were, uh, thrown away.” This is also technically true, I did throw the coverall away from my body.

“What were you wearing before?”

Uh, crap, the technically true answer isn’t going to help. Saying “nothing” would get her to call the police immediately.

“J-just other… ill fitting, men’s clothes,” I say. I am so very bad at lying… much to my detriment. “I… decided it was time to get some things that fit.”

She almost seems to be whimpering. Part of me wants to look her in the eyes and promise that I’m fine, to offer her some assurance that she’s not in danger of leaving a vulnerable girl to a miserable fate. It’s a terrible idea. I need a pair of sunglasses.

“I-I’m fine,” I say. “I mean, mostly.”

“You… are you in some kind of danger?”

“No… I don’t think, anyway. I live alone, at least.”

She gasps. “All by yourself… h-how… why?”

“It’s complicated.”

She diminishes a little.

“I really am fine,” I say. I almost screw everything up and flash her a smile. That would be a thousand times worse than meeting her eyes. “My… life’s just… gotten unexpectedly complicated.”

“A-are… are you really?”

“Mmhmm,” I give her a vigorous nod. “And you are being a great help to me right now. I-I’m sorry if I’m making you worry.”

“It’s okay.” She gives me a sudden hug, but then recoils with a chirp and tumbles to her butt. “Ah! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The scent of her perfume lingers in my nose. It’s a pleasant, kind of fruity aroma, though hard to pin down. Maybe it reminds me of a ripe banana?

I laugh, it’s a cute little chitter, and I let it roll out. This woman is very very sweet. A foolish part of myself wants to tell her everything. It thinks it would be nice to have a confidant.

A very foolish part indeed.

I let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry for being so pushy,” she says.

I shake my head. “No, I appreciate it. It… it’s nice.”

She rolls to her feet. She seems far more relaxed, though she’s still giving me a hard look. “You really are so thin though. I mean, at the waist. I’ve never seen a girl w-with hips, uh, like yours, but such a thin waist. Unless she was, um, starving, for, uh…”

“I… just have a… strange shape,” I say. “I… I’m not, like, anorexic or anything.” I smile. “Though I guess I am a bit peckish.”

I haven’t had more than a snack since I… uh… woke up. I probably should have eaten something, now that I think about it, but the… mess, ruined my appetite.

“Well… okay,” she says. She sounds skeptical, but I looked pretty hardy in the mirror so I’m sure she’s mostly confused. “I… uh…”

“I think we were looking for undies?” I offer.

“Ah, yes, yes,” She says too quickly. She finds me a package of lady boxers that should fit from the adult sizes, and we move on to the rest of my wardrobe.

“I want, like, the baggiest pair of pants,” I say. “I’ll take anything, as long as it isn’t tight.” I see a pair of jeans with holes worn in them. “Or, uh, worn out.”

She giggles. It seems she’s accepted I’m just a strange girl. “They’re actually supposed to be like that. I guess it’s a style.”

“Ah, well, still. I… uh… have a strict no holes in my clothes policy.” Technically this is a new policy. I used to let my clothes get quite raggedy before I replaced them.

“I can respect that,” she says. We spend a half hour looking through different jeans. Unfortunately I’m a little bit too “dem hips” to find anything that fits outright, so I end up picking a couple pairs of jeans from the teenage boy section that I’ll have to cut to size. We have a much easier time finding a hooded sweater and a few long sleeve shirts.

We head to the changing room once more so I can examine my catch. I try my stuff on, and asides from the rolled up pant legs I look pretty good. Even with the hood down you can’t see any fur on my neck, so I look like a cute, if tomboyish, girl. Well, asides from my eyes, of course.

And my hands. Yeah. I… forgot about the fur. And the claws.

“How’s it look,” she asks, through the door.

“Ah… good.” There’s an almost giddy lilt in my voice. I really do look good, great even. I don’t think I’ve ever been so pleased to look in the mirror before. This woman has a great eye for fashion. “Though this, um, might sound weird, but… do you have gloves?”

“Gloves?”

“Y-yeah, like, maybe kind of long ones?”

She hems. “I can go look.”

I hear her walk away, leaving me to keep checking myself out. The outfit is almost perfect, though I’m sure it will be murder in the summer. The only problem left is the boots. They are at least six sizes too large, so I’ll have to get rid of them. A breath catches in my throat. I… actually… feel a bit heavy in the chest, thinking about it. 

Those boots have… been with me a long time.

My eyes are watering up a little. Stupid. I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. It’s stupid, they’re just boots. Crappy old footwear from before… before a lot of things.

I shake my head. If ever there was a time for a new pair of shoes it’s when you get a brand new pair of much smaller feet. Sorry old friends, you served me well. Maybe you can find a new home from someone in this shop.

What I need to worry about is what else to get. I’m certain sandals are the only thing that would be comfortable, given the claws, but I’m not so sure I could get away with that. Maybe a new pair of work boots, given that scrubbing floors is all I’m good for anyway. I wonder if they sell those here?

“I, uh, found this pair that might fit,” the woman says, having returned without my noticing, again. I’m starting to dislike wearing the beanie. I got used to the total area awareness from my ears pretty quick, and closing it off has left me feeling blind.

“Ah, thanks,” I say. “Can you, um, toss them over?”

She hesitates, then says. “Yeah, of course.” The gloves fly over a second later. They are… uh… a bit frilly, but they do look to be about the right size. She made a good guess considering she’s never seen my hands.

I try them on and give them a look. They are a bit snug, because of the fur, and I have to be careful not to let the claws poke through, but otherwise, “They’re perfect!”

I give myself one final check in the mirror. My tail is tucked firmly down my right leg, my ears are snug under the beanie, and there’s not a spot of fur showing anywhere on my body. I slide open the door and step out.

“Aw, wow, you look so cute,” she says.

“Th-thanks.” I’m blushing, and I do a slow turn so she can see her handiwork.

“What are you going to do about the boots?” She says, then quickly adds, “If anything.”

I look down at my feet. It’s like a little girl trying on her dad’s shoes, and the feel of my feet knocking around in them is far from pleasant. I need to replace them… though I can’t say I’m happy about it.

“C-can I trade them in?” I say.

She hums thoughtfully, I presume as she examines my footwear. I wonder if they’re even in good enough condition for resale. I’ve done my best to keep them in shape, scrubbing and polishing as needed. I even had them resoled a few years ago. I wouldn’t say they look like new, but I did think I could get another decade out of them.

“Maybe,” she says at last. “They aren’t one of our usual styles.” She pauses for a moment, then asks, “Are those army boots?”

“Y-yeah, I’ve h— I… found them too.” I’m blushing again. “It’s okay, I can keep them, I just didn’t want… uh…” I finish quietly with, “Them to go to waste.”

“If, uh, you don’t want to hold on to them, I… can give them t-to my dad,” she says, trailing off into a whisper almost as bad as I am. “He… sometimes takes on, uh, hard cases, and some of them could use a new set of clothes. If… you don’t want the coverall either, I’m sure he’ll take it too.”

“O-oh…” That’s a good point. I hadn’t considered what I was going to do with my coverall. I can just toss my old underclothes, they were hot garbage anyway, but I might as well send my old work gear off somewhere it can help. “That’s a good idea.”

“As for some new boots,” she says. “We have a good selection of footwear, though I’ll need to know your size to check what we have.”

“Yes. Right.” Okay… that might be a problem. Is it possible to check your shoe size with socks on?

“Can I assume you don’t know that either?” She asks. I nod. “That’s alright, it’s easy enough to measure. Here, come with me.” She holds out a hand, which I take, and she leads me to a space on the second floor. She wasn’t kidding about that selection. It looks like this whole story is dedicated to shoes.

“This is, uh, I mean, is all this here because you don’t sell a lot or because you do?”

“Oh, I think shoes are our most popular item,” she says as she sits me down on a bench. She must sense I prefer my privacy, because she’s placed us in the farthest corner. “You can go ahead and take off your boots.”

I do as she asks, though I barely need to unlace to slip them off my feet. I remove one layer of socks, and see my claws poking out of the second. “Ah! I can take that!” I say as she approaches with the measuring tool. I’m curling my toes out of sight.

She seems taken aback, but nevertheless hands it to me. “Do you know how it works?”

I mean, no, not in the slightest, but I know you seeing claws on my feet will work even worse. “I— I can read off the numbers to you.” I don’t do more than dart a glance at her, but I can tell she’s giving me that nervous look of hers. “S-sorry. I’m just… weird about my feet.”

“It’s okay,” she says, and pats me on the head.

…

Oh… god… that feels… amazing, even through my hat. I involuntarily lean into her hand as she pulls away, the breath catching in my throat. A small part of me wants to beg her to do it again.

I… guess that explains why cats can be so annoying… I shake my head, hopefully too small for her to notice.

We spend a few minutes getting my size, and then about a half hour trying on a few different options. We eventually find something that I think should work, a very petite pair of boots in a strange style. She says it’s called “Gothic Lolita”, whatever that means. I’m just glad they have flat soles that are relatively thin. Most of the other boots my size had heels for days.

“Do you want some new socks too?” she asks.

“Yes, definitely,” I say. Having the heel scrunched up on my calf feels terrible. She seems to have predicted I’d say that, because she hands me a pair of woolen socks immediately.

“I can turn around if you want to change now,” she says.

“Th-thanks,” I say. I swap my socks around as quick as I can, then throw on my new boots and walk over to a mirror. I… look pretty good, actually. Maybe a little punk? But that’s fine. My old style was something like “I don’t give a shit, leave me alone,” so this isn’t exactly off brand. My only complaint is that I still need to fix my jeans so there isn’t a huge roll at the bottom.

The woman takes a place behind me, and I quickly turn down my face before she can get a look at my eyes.

“It looks good on you,” she says. She hems, then adds, “I… I’m actually something of a tailor. Do… do you want me to fix those pants for you?”

That… would be helpful, actually. Part of me is certain theres a catch.

“I-I know you, uh, kind of need them for wearing,” she says. “I… could just do them one at a time, if you leave them here with me. Or, uh… well, if you don’t mind buying something else…”

“Something?”

“Y-yeah, there’s some, uh, capris style yoga leggings downstairs. I think they’d fit you like regular sweatpants.”

A pair of comfy trousers might not be a bad idea, especially since I should probably drop my habit of loafing in my underwear.

“Worth a shot,” I say.

About five minutes later, I’m sitting comfy in a pair black “sweatpants” standing in front of the checkout counter while the woman rings up my order. There’s one of those towers full of sunglasses sitting next to her, so I snatch a dark pair with good coverage and slide them on. I can barely tell the difference, though it’s a pain to get them to sit right without the benefit of correctly placed ears.

“Can I get these too?” I say, handing the shades to her for a second so she can ring them up and then putting them back on my face. It’s nice to finally look straight at her. She’s concentrating adorably on running the tags. We pulled most of them off so I could stay dressed.

When she finishes she looks down at me and then quickly turns away with a blush. “I-it’s, uh, I mean, your t-total is one hundred sixty two dollars and fifty cents.”

Oh god, that’s more than I’ve ever spent on clothes at any one time in my entire life. I turn my head and make a retch sound. “Damn that smarts.” I’m expecting a giggle, but all I get is deathly silence. I turn back to look at her eyes. They’re flared in a mixture of alarm and confusion.

Fuck. I flashed my teeth. I look straight down, and start fumbling though my pockets for my wallet to hand her my card. She takes it after a very long and awkward moment. I’m one hundred percent positive I just confirmed she saw something strange.

I’m waiting, as still as I can, praying for a quick beep from the card reader so I can scurry out of the store, but it never comes. I look up at her, keeping my mouth pinched shut. She’s staring at my credit card, a concerning look on her face.

Oh… shit… shitting fuck hell… my name is on the card.

She looks down at me, her face full of questions, but also… there’s a touch of fear in her eyes. I can see a hundred different thoughts playing out on her face.

She says, slowly, “I thought you didn’t live with Stephen.”

Now that’s an interesting philosophical question, can a man truly be said to live with himself? I mean… it’s a hard question to answer in my case, metaphorically and literally.

“I… live by myself,” I say.

“Why… is this man paying for your clothes?”

Because he doesn’t want to be naked. Unfortunately, I can’t say that. Time for the old standby. “It’s complicated.”

She leans down, more to shrink herself than to get closer. “You haven’t… done something, have you?”

“N-no.”

Her voice grows calm, though I sense a manic energy hidden beneath. “Earlier, I asked if you were in danger,” she says. “Should… should I have asked if you were a danger?”

I feel a sudden outpouring of tears, and blurt out. “I’m not a monster!” I step back with a sharp intake of breath, shaking my head. I’m trembling all over. 

I… I don’t want to be here. I turn, and run out the door as fast as I can. The woman doesn’t say anything.

I’ve sprinted halfway back to my apartment before I settle down enough to walk. Some small analytical part of my brain notes that my gait felt completely different, like each step cost more than before. I’m more tired than I should be, accounting for the change in height and weight. That part offers very little in terms of distraction to the emotionally tumultuous rest of my mind.

Fuck. She is definitely going to call the police. And… and I… and what the hell am I going to do…

Am I about to go to jail for my own murder?

I wander back home in a daze, barely even aware of the moment when I slump onto my couch. None of my thoughts are sustained to completion, leaving only fragments of consciousness in my mind.

When I wake up it’s a total surprise. I can’t even remember feeling sleepy. I’m still wearing my boots, and I’m dreadfully hungry and thirsty.

I wrench off my shoes, throwing my socks with them into the tiled space by the door. I feel a chill, so I leave the sweater and pants on as I shuffle into the kitchen. The first thing I do is slam back a whole glass of water. I’m not normally a sloppy drinker, but this time I end up soaking the front of my clothes. I don’t like the feeling at all, but it only registers in a distant part of my mind.

I refill my glass and turn to my fridge, prying it open. Most of the food isn’t appealing, so I spend the next ten minutes or so wolfing down every scrap of meat I can find—from thin sliced turkey to uncooked bacon—in between tiny sips of water.

By the time I’m finished, I feel… better. Definitely overfull, but my brain is thinking complete thoughts again.

Actually, I’m not committed to that being a good thing. Nothing on my mind is encouraging.

I take a look around, trying to judge the time by the color of my surroundings. Is it late in the day?

I dig my phone out of my sweater. About five pm. The sun must be setting, or around that time anyway. I never was good at that. I guess I could look outside and check?

Nah…

You know what? Fuck it. I’m going to spend my last free moments doing something I love before the inevitable vivisection.

I plop down on the couch and fire up my TV and the attached gaming console. I was in the middle of an epic length RPG. There’s no chance in hell I’ll be able to finish it before my doom, but by god I’m going to go down trying.

When the sun starts peeking in through my curtains after the latest boss fight, I’m far too exhausted to be surprised.

Did… she not call the police?

I find a save point and shut down the system. I… I guess I should go to sleep? I don’t like the idea of the goon squad coming for me while I’m passed out, but I don’t have much of a choice.

I peel off my clothes and prowl to my bedroom. I smell a tinge of blood as I wiggle into the depths of my sheets. My last thought before I fall into darkness is that I need to buy a new blanket.

I wake up to a buzz and a bleep from my phone. Judging by the color of my room it must be around mid afternoon. Before I confront what will inevitably be some awful problem, I scamper into my kitchen to get a drink of water. I take a look in my fridge. In spite of the relative fullness, nothing insid appeals to me. I absently grab a few pieces of iceberg lettuce and munch on them while I think.

Is meat the only thing I can eat?

I’m somewhat worried a few things might now be poisonous to me that weren’t before, and also that some other things might no longer be as digestible. I am much smaller, and that translates into a shorter digestive tract and thus less time to work on my food.

On the other hand…

I… have a weird certainty about my diet. I look at the bread sitting in my fridge. That will have to go. There’s a few soda’s on the bottom shelf which will have to go too. I have a half eaten chocolate bar which… might have been okay if it was dark enough?

Wh-why do I feel so confident? I turn to my pantry and take a look. The canned soups are fine, the cereal is not. If I weren’t so terrible as to not have any vegetables, most of those would be fine. Whole potatoes, yes, french fries and chips, no. Meat, good, candy, bad.

Basically, I have to eat healthy… or I’ll die immediately.

It’s weird, but I actually… kind of like that? I don’t think that has to do with whatever force implanted knowledge about my diet into my brain, rather I no longer have to deal with the nebulous fear I’m not “eating right” or whatever. I just… have to eat the things I can eat.

What I don’t like is how much cooking I’ll need to do. My former meal plan consisted of “foods I could prepare and eat in less than ten minutes.” If I want to subsist on something besides an endless pile of sliced ham I’m going to have to buy a frying pan.

Yaaayy…

Anyway, right now I’m basically out of food. I have three cans of “chunky” soup, and everything else promises nothing better than dietary stress, if I’m lucky.

To make matters worse I left my credit card at Second to None, so I won’t be able to go shopping until I can get a new one. Last time I had to do that it took a whole week, so that’s great.

I sigh. You know, whatever message I just got can’t be worse than contemplating starvation, so I return to my bedroom and grab my phone. When I look at the screen I see two notifications.

The first one, from around 8 pm yesterday, during my gaming marathon, says, “Monday is one year since first day. Still planning to come to office early for review?”

Oh yeah, I forgot about that. We’d talked about it last month. Well, texted about it. As hands off as he is, I guess Mr. Walker still likes to at least check in with his employees from time to time to, uh, make sure they haven’t transformed into cat-girls. I laugh.

Anyway, I check the second message. “Sorry if weird, sure just sleeping, but are you really okay?”

I get… a bad feeling. I know I shouldn’t, but it doesn’t sit right. The logical part of my brain says he’s just concerned because I normally respond relatively quick, but now, after telling him I was suddenly and violently ill, it’s been almost a whole day and still nothing. He’s just be worried about one of his employees.

That’s what the logical part of my brain is saying. The part with a better track record is telling me he’s probably rounding up a gang of mutant hunters to drag me off to a government lab at this exact moment.

Still, I don’t think paranoia as a general principle is a great idea. I should answer him back to put him at ease.

I start typing “Missed your message, was playing a game,” when I pause. Do I want him thinking I’m some homebody gaming looser? Should I come up with a different excuse? Tell him I was on a date? Hitting up the clubs?

I chuckle. Yeah, that’s me, out drinking all night. I’m in the right city for it, at least.

I shake my head. Whatever, I’ll just tell him I was busy. “Missed message, was busy, just woke up. Recovered fine from illness, still coming in on Monday.” Before I hit send I feel a pang of guilt. I don’t like lying to him about coming in but… I mean… there’s no way I can ever see him again, right? The idea is too stupid to contemplate.

I sigh. Fuck it. I don’t want to think about the future. I tap the little arrow and send my filthy lies on their way. He can be disappointed in me later.

It doesn’t take him long to answer. “Okay. Glad to hear.”

I stare at his message far longer than necessary. I… I… don’t like this feeling. I don’t even know the guy, so I shouldn’t feel… I mean, he’ll get over it, I’m sure lots of his employees just vanish mysteriously after a year of steady work, never missing a day, and never causing a single complaint.

He won’t feel bad or troubled by that at all…

I set down my phone. Yeah… he really won’t.

I drift out of my room and wander to my couch, where I slump down and pick up my controller. Unfortunately I don’t feel any desire to play something, so I drop it right away and roll to my side.

Hmm… I… am not wearing any clothes right now. I… I should… do my laundry? Did I… remember to put the earlier load into the dryer? I shuffle into the kitchen to check.

I did not.

Is it even worth doing? This is almost nothing but underwear that won’t even fit. Why did I bother? Whatever, I throw them in the machine on top and set them tumbling away, then gather up every other scrap of dirty clothing in my apartment and put them in the wash. Some distant part of my mind is like “maybe woman’s clothing has different care instructions,” but I tell that part to shut it. It’s going to be survival of the fittest in this household.

I frown. Actually, I should be careful about the wool socks— wait, why am I thinking about this! Stupid brain stop distracting me from my… horrible problems.

Never mind. I go back to thinking about laundry.

After some no doubt thrilling internal discussion on how to wash my clothes, I discover to my shock that I’m still a cat-girl with an abundance of problems and a deficit of options.

On the bright side, it turns out most of the clothes I bought aren’t picky, happy to be done on permanent press. So nothing new, that’s the only setting I use anyway. The only item that insists on being “gentle” is the bra, which I take to mean “hang dry.” No big deal. I set it aside on a clothes hanger.

I’ve been standing naked in my kitchen the whole time, fully expecting the goon squad to kick down my door at any moment. Why wouldn’t they come at the worst possible time, after all. Instead I make it all the way to the end of washing and drying without so much as a peep, and get dressed a free man.

Well, mostly dressed, I’m still letting the bra dry. It’s a bit damp in my apartment, so I’m not sure how long that’s going to take. I need to buy some spares, though now I’ll be able to pick out a few things on my own without needing… nosey shop clerks.

It’s a shame about the jeans… and the credit card… and the other shirts… and the underwear…

Fuck… I feel like I left my whole life back there.

What I don’t understand is… why didn’t she call the police? At the very least I did shoplift a bunch of things, and it’s not like I didn’t leave behind a pile of evidence.

The foolish part of my heart is whispering that maybe she’s not a bad woman, and that I should trust her, maybe walk back to the store and explain things to her.

Obviously, I ignore that part.

Instead I give my attention to the very useful part of my brain, the one in charge of paying rent. We’ll call it pragmatism. Unfortunately, it’s in a sorry state. Mysterious demi-human transformations are so far outside plausible experience that I’m lost in a haze. I do my best to focus.

For starters, I need to eat. My options are to purchase food, or to run to the forest and try my hand as an ambush predator. I’m not a fan of the second option, so that means I’ll need an income. Little girl begging on the street doesn’t sound like the start of any story I want to be a part of, and since I’m not a secretly wealthy man working as a janitor for fun, I’ll need a job.

… Technically, I already have a job…

Hmm… I don’t like it when practicality aligns with sentimentality. Makes me think I’m cheating…

Still… what is the best way to find work? For the purposes of society, Stephen Alexander might as well be dead. There is no way for me to prove to the state that I am the man I say I am. Hell, I can’t even prove it to myself. I have all my old memories, and they feel like mine, but… what does that count for?

Right now, I’m a nobody. Nobodies can’t get regular jobs, and the, uh, only job I can think of someone giving to a preteen girl with no papers is… not something I’m interested in. Also, the kind of thing where people would notice a cat-girl.

I… really really don’t like what pragmatism is telling me.

“Just call my boss and explain the problem” is too easy. There’s no possible way it could work…

But then, every other solution I can think of is worse.

Could I try my hand as a migrant laborer on a farm? I’ve heard they’re mostly illegal immigrants, and so by extension aren’t asked awkward questions like “what is your social security number” and “are you a human being.”

On the other hand, that sounds terrible. Also, it would require me to travel halfway across the country, which could be difficult for a cat-girl with no money, no car, and no identity. Let’s call that “Plan: This is a terrible idea,” and shelve it for now.

I… think I might have only one real option…

I wander into my bedroom to grab my phone. There are no notifications, as expected. It’s exactly as I left it, sitting in the messenger app, opened up to my one contact.

How do you even begin explaining to a relative stranger that you’ve been transformed?

It seems like one of those “easier done in person” kinds of things. That would allow me to quickly establish this isn’t some kind of joke. Well… I suppose it could be a joke I’m the victim of, though I do feel like this might require a nation state level investment to pull off. I donno, maybe wizards are real after all? That would be cool…

… What was I doing again? I look down at my phone. Ah! Right… ruining my life.

Well, whatever, I have to do something. I type, “Illness had complications, easier to explain in person” into the text field, then give it a long look. Maybe I should let it sit for a few minutes to see if I can think of a better idea.

Ten minutes of staring at my floor has not provided any level of inspiration. Shocking.

We’re fast approaching “fuck it” territory. I look at my phone.

“Fuck it.” I push the send button.

With any luck I’ll be instantly sucked into another universe, to join an epic adventure against a world threatening evil, long before my boss gets back to me. I’m pretty sure as a cat-girl I’ll be typecast as some kind of rogue character, but—

My phone buzzes. “Meet at office?”

I don’t know, that sounds a little… exposed. I’d like to have some kind of escape path. Not that I have any plans for if this goes horribly wrong, but I’m nothing if not the eternal optimist.

Okay, that was a lie, but hey, new me, new attitude? Why not, and since I’m being optimistic, is there any reason not to head over to the office. No one hangs out there besides the boss. To the rest of the guys it’s only a place to pick up supplies when we need them.

“Be there in hour?” I text back. Just for good measure I start heating up a can of soup. My meat binge did a good job keeping me full, but if I need to scamper off into the wilderness for the rest of my days I’d prefer to leave as little food behind as possible.

Shortly after I’ve finished dumping the can into a pot I get an “Okay” from my boss.

Well, guess I’m committed. After my crappy dinner slash breakfast slash last meal, I double check my wardrobe, making sure I look as normal as possible. Unfortunately the bra is still clammy, so I decide to leave it behind. My new shirts are a lot softer anyway so it’s probably fine.

Outside I find that I’m warm, in spite of the cool air and my paltry attire. Normally I’m rather miserable on my way to the subway, but this is almost nice… except for the parts up front without any fur. Those parts are a bit… brisk.

Whatever, problems for later. It’s too dark for the sunglasses not to stand out, but I’m hoping people who notice will assume I’m blind or something. Maybe I should invest in one of those poking sticks?

I make it through the subways without trouble. It’s a past rush hour so it’s not especially crowded. As expected, most everyone ignored me, possibly more than usually. All that’s left the mile to my boss, which I finish in around a half hour.

The building has three levels and an attached garage. We aren’t the only guys running a company out of it. “Return of the Clean” is a decent sized operation, but Walker keeps things lean. There’s a light on in the second floor, which I know is his office from the few times we’ve met in person.

I send one last text, “Arrived.”

He gets back with, “Front door unlocked,” right away.

I take a deep breath. This is it. Last chance to back out. My heart is frozen in my chest, and a dreadful chill settles on my skin. I wish I could say the sensation was unfamiliar.

I march to the front door and throw it open. I stomp up the stairs, as much to announce my presence to myself as to anyone inside, then pause before the door, hand inches away from the handle.

Okay me. Just pop in there. What’s the worst that could happen? Horrible, painful death? Since when do I care?

I push through into the office.

The man inside looks at me with surprise. It’s my boss, Grant Walker. He towered over me when I was a man, so now he looks like a giant. His black hair rests tidily over his brow, still full and thick even with the ample speckles of grey. He stands up and takes a half step towards me. “Can I help you… kid?”

I halt mid breath, every attempt at language caught in my throat. My heart races furiously, and it takes every ounce of will power not to bolt out of the office immediately. My boss and I spend an uncomfortably long time staring at each other. He looks like he’s trying not to spook a wild animal. I guess that’s not far from the truth.

Finally, as much as due to running out of air as any act of will power, I finish my breath and say, “Mr. Walker, sir.”

“Do I know you?” he replies. He takes a step back and lowers himself into a chair.

“N-not very well…” I trail off. He doesn’t answer, just continues waiting, a kind look in his eyes. “Uh, but… we, um, did agree to meet right now.”

“We did?”

“Y-yes, I… I’m…” I start to crumple. “Steph.” I continue in barely more than a whisper, “Stephen Alexander.”

When I hear nothing from Walker for several seconds, I risk a glance up at his face. He is watching me carefully, a mixture of concern and wariness in his eyes. I can’t tell if he believes me or what, but he seems to expect me to elaborate.

“I… I woke up like this on Thursday, th-that’s why I…” I shake my head, I can feel tears start to roll out from behind my glasses. “I’m not making… making excuses or anything.”

“For missing work?” Walker says. There’s a trace of amusement in his voice. “I should hope not. Turning yourself into a, uh, child would be a bit drastic.” He actually chuckles. I’m a little hurt by it. “Ah, sorry, sorry.” I look up. He seems genuinely apologetic.

“You… don’t believe me….”

“Ah, I mean, I won’t pretend I don’t have a lot of doubt, but I can see you’re in genuine distress. Why don’t you take a seat over there. I’ll make you some hot chocolate and you can tell me all about it?” He’s motioning towards the seat across from him. There’s a small wooden table in between.

“J-just water, is fine.” I shuffle to the offered chair and hop in. Walker grabs a cup of water and hands it over as he sits down.

“So, tell me your troubles little one.”

“I, uh, finished my shift Wednesday morning, and I felt, um, a little strange, like I was coming down with something. After I fell asleep there was a, ah, pain, a lot of it, and when I woke up I was… changed.”

“Just like that?”

“W-well, there was a lot of… um… mess and… uh…”

He hums, studying me carefully. I can’t read what he might be thinking at all. “A case like this would require a lot of evidence.”

“I- I have my wallet and phone,” I say, producing both from my pocket and placing them in front of him. “B-but, I cleaned up th-the blood, and stuff.”

“Blood?” He places a hand on his chin. “How did you dispose of it?”

“J-just garbage bags. I threw them in the dumpster.”

He hems and turns away, a distant look in his eyes. “… a few favors, though I’m not sure the police…”

“N-not the police!” I blurt out. I’m almost as surprised as he is. “Ah… I mean…” I’m shaking my head. I can feel a sense of panic welling up in me.

“Why? Did you do something?”

“No!” I hop out of my seat. “I-I didn’t do… I… I- I am something!” I throw off my sunglasses and fix my gaze directly on his, though I break away after a few seconds. His eyes flare in alarm.

To his credit, he continues in the same even tone. “I think you left out a few important details.”

I nod, and then slowly pull off my beanie. My ears pop up, glad to be free, and fix themselves on my boss. I can hear the faint beating of his heart. I don’t know enough to say if it’s going fast or slow.

“They’re real,” I say. “You’re welcome to check.” I pull the hair away from beneath my ears as best I can, to show there’s not another set below them.

He reaches a hand out, reluctantly, and then pauses. He’s finally showing some confusion on his face.

“Y-you really can check.”

“Ah, yes, it is… very…” He shakes his head, and then gently takes mine with one hand. He runs the other around my ear and down the side of my face.

… oh… fuck… I… I forgot how… how nice…

It takes a great act of will not to grab his hands and hold them in place, and even then I roll forward as he pulls away.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I’m blushing furiously, and I can feel my breath riding heavy through my throat. “F-fine,” I manage to stutter.

“So… you have some kind of animal ears.”

“N-not just ears.” I pull off my gloves, splaying my fingers to show off the fur and claws. I also pull back my lips to reveal the teeth. “The fur’s all over my body, and there’s a tail too, b-but… I hope you don’t mind if I k-keep that to myself.”

“Ah… yeah, yeah. Why don’t you… take a seat.”

I slink back into my chair and roll my legs up in front of me. My boss and I sit together in silence for a long while. I’m too frightened to check the progress of his thoughts so I keep my head down.

Eventually, he says, “Okay, so, it seems you’ve changed into some kind of cat… boy?”

“N-not exactly,” I say. I unzip my sweater, dropping my legs and turning to the side as I pull my shirt tight around my chest. “M-more like a, uh, cat-girl.” I look down and see that my nipples are poking out. I blush and quickly zip back up. Mr Walker appears to have regained his cool, gazing distantly at the far wall.

“I guess, in the grand scheme of things, turning into a girl is the least surprising part.”

“You believe me?”

“At some point I have to accept the evidence, even if it does lead to a… bizarre conclusion. Either my employee Steph has been transformed by natural means into a, uh, cat-girl, or someone, possibly still my employee Steph, has been surgically altered to look like one. Frankly, the second option sounds more unlikely than the first, especially given your testimony.”

“Ah… sorry.”

“For what?” he says. “I’m assuming you didn’t know this was going to happen?” I shake my head. “Then I don’t know what you’ve done to be sorry about.”

“I’m just, making a lot of problems for you, and, putting all this on you, and… and…”

“It’s fine,” he says. “Dealing with employee problems is part of being a good boss. I appreciate you trusting me with this, by the way. I’m sure it can’t have been easy.”

I shake my head, the rest of my body too. For some reason I’m crying. I wish I could have taken that hot chocolate. We sit in silence for a long while, until I finally settle.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do next?” He asks. “It would probably be best to legally establish you are the same person, and the sooner the better.”

“N-no.” I feel my skin crawl.

“Why not?”

“I-I’m not sure,” I say. “Just, whenever I think about it, I… I get a really bad feeling.”

“How so?”

“Like… like someone will come after me if I do.”

“Hmm… maybe,” he says.

I look at him in alarm. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, nothing specific, I was just thinking, well, it’s very unlikely you’re the only person this has ever happened to, right? But we’ve never heard about it. It could be incredibly rare, but if some group or organization has been, uh, suppressing it, that would explain it too.”

“Y-you… think…”

“I don’t have any reason to believe it,” he admits. “But I don’t have any reason to disbelieve it either. Not enough to insist on you outing yourself to the law, anyway.”

“Th-thanks.”

“Still, that does leave us with the question of what are you going to do about it?”

“I… I was kind of thinking, that, well…”

“You could just keep your job?” He asks. I nod. “Don’t see why that should be a problem. Eventually you’ll probably want to get, you know, a new identity, but for now there isn’t a problem.” He chuckles, and adds with a smile, “It’s not like there’s a law against keeping your job after transforming into a cat.”

I laugh a little with him. “You mean it?”

“Of course!” He grins. “And this does solve a little mystery of mine.”

“A mystery?”

Rather than answer he walks over to a cabinet and pulls something out. He turns around, and I see he’s got a khaki coverall and a pair of black boots in his hands. He sets them on the table between us and sits down.

“My… wh— why do you have them?”

“I was really confused when my daughter gave me these,” he says, and then bashfully adds, “And possibly a little worried.”

“Y-your daughter?”

“Yeah, she works at a little shop called Second to None and told me someone dropped these off. She recognized my company logo so she brought them home yesterday. I thought maybe you’d quit or something.”

“She… didn’t say anything else?”

“No, why, did you meet her?”

“M-maybe, is she kind of tall, with black hair and blue eyes?”

“Like this?” He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture.

“Yeah! That’s her. She… she helped me… uh.” I motion vaguely at my clothes. “I… kind of ran away from her… uh… after…” I shake my head. “I hope she didn’t get in trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“I… didn’t pay for my clothes.”

He hums thoughtfully. “I doubt you gave her any bother—she gets along great with her boss—though you might have caused her some anxiety. She seemed a little, well, distant yesterday, like she had something on her mind.”

“Ah… c-can you tell her I’m sorry?”

“I have a better idea,” he says cheerfully. “Why don’t you tell her yourself? I bet she’d love to see you again.”

“L-like right now?”

“Yeah, sure, it’s not late. Oh, before I forget.” He pulls something out of my old work clothes. “You probably don’t need the coverall any more, but you might still want this.” He hands me my credit card. “Tracy must have put it in there, thought it would be the best way to get it back to you without, well, outing you.” He laughs.

I take the card. “Thanks.” Then look at the boots and coverall. “I guess you, uh, can keep those.”

“Even the boots? You’ve taken good care of them,” he says. I nod. “Well, alright, I’ll be sure to find them a new home.”

“Is it… okay to, uh, for me… show…”

“Ah, Tracy’s always been good at keeping secrets,” he says. His face darkens a little when he adds, “Maybe a little too good.” He shakes his head. “In any case, I’m not going to force ya, of course, and if you want to wear your beanie and stuff I’m sure she won’t pry, in case you want to meet her anyway. But, well…” He gestures vaguely. “I mean, maybe you could use a friend or something, and I’m sure my daughter would be delighted with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think so anyway,” Walker says. “She’s into those, uh, Chinese cartoon things.”

“Anime?”

“Yeah, yeah, that, she’s always binging those shows, especially ones with, well, cat-girls like you, I suppose.” He gives me a long look. It’s a little playful, but also a little serious. “Uh, say, you don’t, uh, happen to watch a lot of that stuff to, do you?” 

“No, I don’t really watch anything.” I shrug. “I’ve never found stuff like this to be interesting. Why?”

“Ah, just wondering if this is a side effect Tracy should look out for.” He laughs. “Though I can’t say it would discourage her at all. She sometimes walks around with a little cat ear headband for oh, what’s it called? A costume game?”

“Cosplay?” I have an amused grin.

“Yeah! Man, are you sure you don’t know this stuff?” He chuckles. “Anyway, she does that at those comic book shows. You’d probably blend right in at a place like that.”

I hem and awkwardly scratch my head.

“Anyway, let me text Tracy and see if she minds company.” He pulls out his phone and taps a message into it. We chat a few minutes about nothing in particular before she gets back to him. He reads the message and laughs, then types a reply. “Looks like it’s alright. Want to get going?”

“Y-yeah.” I put all my things back on, and ask Walker to look me over to make sure nothing’s showing. Once we’re good we head out of the office and to his truck in the motor pool. It’s old, and a bit rough around the edges, but he’s taken good care of it. It’s also huge. He helps me up before getting in.

As we’re rumbling down the street, I ask, “You live with your daughter?” He nods. “How old is she?”

“Just turned twenty two.”

“Oh, is she in school?”

He shakes his head. I get the feeling I’m prying so I let it be. We ride the rest of the way in relative silence, only chatting for a few minutes here and there about nothing consequential. It’s quite dark by the time we arrive, although it still isn’t particularly late.

He lets me out of the truck and I take a moment to study his house. It sits on a very narrow lot on a crowded street. We’ve parked on the short driveway that leads into the garage. I think his truck might be too big to fit inside. The lights are on in the front room, with the blinds drawn down.

“Feeling shy?” Mr. Walker says with a chuckle. “I promise she’s a sweet girl.”

I gulp, and walk forward. He motions for me to wait by the front door while he goes in. I can hear him talking with Tracy inside. I know I promised myself unrelenting optimism, but I can’t shake the idea he’s preparing an ambush.

Before I get far in my paranoia I hear, “Alright Steph, you can come in.”

I grab hold and drag myself through the front door, one awkward step at a time. I see Tracy and Mr. Walker standing side by side, watching me enter.

Tracy lights up and gasps. “You!” She turns to her father. “You said you were bringing an employee.”

He shrugs, and says with a playful grin. “She is.”

Tracy takes a few steps towards me, stopping about halfway between us. She squats just enough to get on eye level with me. “But… you’re so young.”

I look away, and say, maybe a little too softly, “I-I’m… actually thirty.”

“What!” She gasps and jumps back.

“S-sorry.”

“B-but… y-you’re… so… and small… and, and, you…”

“I-I didn’t mean… to lie,” I say. “I really did need your help. I… I just…”

“I don’t… I don’t understand?”

“Now now, Tracy,” Mr. Walker says. He walks past me to close the door. “There’s no need to grill the poor kid. He— she, just wanted to apologize for worrying you.”

“I— I just,” Tracy says. “Why?” Her dad starts to respond, but I cut him off.

“It’s fine.” I take a deep breath and pull my hat and glasses off. She gasps, choking on her spit, and tumbles to her butt. She’s holding back a squeal, but she cuts it off by biting her hand.

Mr. Walker laughs. “I told ya she’d get a kick out of it.”

“A-a-a-are yy-y-you rr-eally—“

“A cat-girl?” I say. She nods, and I return the gesture. A whimper of enthusiasm chirps from her lips before she cuts it off by biting down again. “Y-you can… check…. if you’d like.” Her eyes bulge in alarm. “I-I mean my ears.”

We stay like that for a while, with her clearly fighting back the urge to jump forward with glee, or else scamper off to her room. She slowly lets herself step forward, until she’s in arms reach.

“J-just be gentle, o-okay?” I say.

She hums an assent as she carefully reaches out. I turn my head to accommodate and brace for the sensation. The breath catches in my throat when she makes contact, and I involuntarily close my eyes. After ten or fifteen seconds rubbing through my fur she suddenly jumps back.

“W-what?”

“Were… were you purring?” she asks.

“Was I?” I say, maybe a little too loud. I didn’t notice at all, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

She nods. Mr. Walker laughs and says, “He really is just like a cat.”

“H-he,” Tracy turns back to her father. “You mean she, right?”

“Oh, ah, I, uh,” he starts.

I cut in and say, “It’s complicated.” She looks back to me. I’m sure I have a very awkward look on my face, and I certainly feel it, but I manage to explain the situation as best I can. By the time I’m done, her face has gone through at least three shades of red, and looks about ready to stay there all night.

We’re rescued from an uncomfortable silence by Mr. Walker saying, “Who wants dinner?”

He’s a decent cook, and is able to prepare chicken cutlets without much delay. I spend the time standing on a stool in his kitchen, doing my best to follow along. Tracy prepares the table, but is otherwise silent. I guess she’s embarrassed because I’m a… or I used to be, anyway, a man. Maybe she’s a little sheltered? I don’t ask any questions.

After we’re finished eating, as I’m getting ready to go, Tracy suddenly calls out—“W-wait!”—and runs upstairs. She returns a short while later with a pile of clothes, the things we picked out yesterday. She holds up a pairs of jeans. “I already hemmed them for you.”

“Wh-what?” I say.

“I thought I’d see you again,” she says, looking off to the side. “N-not like this, but I was sure you’d come back, s-so I… I bought them. I… I didn’t want you stealing from… Stephen.”

I smile a little, but also say. “That’s, that’s too much! It was almost two hundred dollars!”

She shakes her head, and forces the bundle of clothes into my hands. “It’s a birthday present.”

Now I’m blushing, and I can feel a little moisture pooling near my eyes. “Th-thanks.”

She turns and skitters up the stairs, but stops halfway up. “I… come visit, any time.” She runs the rest of the way out of sight. I hear a door open and shut.

Mr. Walker pats me on the back as I’m putting my hat and gloves on. “She’s a good kid.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Anyway, I guess you’ll be needing a ride home?”

“I can take the subway,” I say.

“If you insist,” he says. “But we do have some business to discuss.”

“We do?”

“Yeah, you’re still planning on working for me, right?” He asks. I nod. “Then I’ll need to get you some new coveralls, and those boots, cute as they are, aren’t proper work attire. I can order some things in your size. Plus, we’ll want to decide how we handle your identity with the rest of the crew.”

“Well, okay… it’s a bit late anyway.”

He chuckles. “I didn’t want to say it, but that too. I know you still think of yourself as the same guy, but, ah, it’s hard for me not to think of you as, um—“

“A little girl?”

“More like a teenager, but yeah. Not that I think you can’t take care of yourself if you need to. You’ve got claws after all, but maybe it would be best if you don’t have to use them.”

“Y-yeah, you’re probably right.”

We load into his truck and set off down the road. We spend the trip deciding how to best let me keep my job without drawing any attention. It shouldn’t be too hard. Mr. Walker handles the administrative stuff, so he can make a new file without any fuss. We decide I should go by Steph, though I’ll keep my social and all that.

At some point I’ll have to either get a new social security number and birth certificate, or somehow change my old records to reflect my new height. Mr. Walker half jokingly suggests I take an inch off every time I renew my driver’s license. It’s not a bad plan, except it might take until some time next century to finish.

As we turn down my street I motion for him to pull over and say, “Y-you can drop me off here.”

He parks without complaint, finding an open space between a pair of beat up old sedans. I don’t know why I asked him, given that I gave him my exact address when I was hired, but he gets it anyway.

I turn to him as I’m climbing down the side of his truck and say, “Th-thanks for everything, Mr. Walker, sir.”

He smiles and says, “No problem, kid, any time. And please, just call me Grant. I don’t like to be so formal with my guys, you know?”

“R-right, thanks G-grant,” I manage to spit out. “Have a good night.”

“You too, Steph. I hope to see more of ya, and I’m sure Tracy does too.”

I nod far too energetically and bolt out of sight before he can finish his wave.

By the time I’m back inside, I’m a mess of emotions. Most of them good, but there’s still a lot of them. After a quick shower and a long dry off, I crawl into bed, content.


	2. Part 2

I take a deep breath, enjoying the scents that permeate the empty museum. By now the air filter has removed the funk and sweat from patrons, leaving behind only a faint wisp of spiced tea and the inscrutable aroma of history.

Although I’ve worked in this museum almost a year, it wasn’t until I mysteriously transformed into a cat-girl that I became able to appreciate the subtle textures and delicate mélange once hidden beyond my senses.

It’s been just over a month since the sudden change, and with the help of my boss I made a surprisingly smooth transition into my new life. Well, I guess more like a transition from my old life, back into my old life, except now as a cat-girl.

As far as my coworkers are concerned I’m the new girl Steph, probably short for Stephany, who’s taken over for Stephen after he moved out of the city. It was quite the funny coincidence that a young woman with exactly the same nickname as the old guy happened to show up needing a job at the exact time he was leaving. I mean, it would be, except I don’t know any of the guys anyway, so it didn’t make a difference to them either way.

Still, Rusty at least knew me by name, so he was amused by it. I wave to him as I walk past the security desk, heading for the room where we keep the supplies. Today is a floor day for me, so that means I gotta lug the old buffer to some far corner of the museum. Thankfully my boss, Grant, runs a tight ship, so it’s no problem to move around in spite of my greatly reduced height and weight.

Tracy, Grant’s daughter, has proven to be the perfect friend for someone in my condition. She’s a clever tailor, a skill she forged making costumes for herself, so she’s made several helpful modifications to my clothes. For starters, it’s thanks to her that I have a pair of headphones that actually fit my ears, allowing me to keep listening to music while I work. Nothing like rocking out on the job.

She’s also made a fake cat-ear headband for me. Fake in that the cat ears are real, but the headband makes it look like they’re fake. She even added a blinking light to explain why they might twitch. I’m not wearing it right now, of course, but on days off it’s nice to be able to walk around with my ears out.

That, combined with work she’s done to accommodate my tail, and I’ve been… well… honestly, I’ve been living very comfortably. I hate to say it, but this might be the best part of my life to date. The only “cost”, such as there is one, is that I feel pressured to help Tracy with her costume projects. Sometimes she treats me a bit too much like a dress-up doll.

I smile… she’s hard to resist when she makes those puppy dog eyes at me. It’s totally unfair, I’m the one with big eyes, so she should be putty in my hands. I totally enjoy it, not that I’d admit to it, but I used to daydream of being a fantasy adventurer, so with her it’s like I get to live the dream. Right now we’re in the middle of making a wizard getup like one of the characters in the game I’ve been playing.

She has been a little too, uh, pushy, I think, about taking pictures. She doesn’t share them online or anything, and, I mean, if the security’s good enough for celebrity selfie backups, it’s probably good enough for me. Still, it does make me feel uncomfortable. She just looked so sad when I told her no that I eventually relented. I’m sure it doesn’t matter, I just look like I’m wearing a costume.

Anyway, I’m halfway through my shift, loading the buffing machine back into the closet and grabbing my dusting supplies, when I notice an odd smell. I’ve been making good time, and I’m about ready for a break, so I decide to do a little snooping around. Just for fun, of course. It’s always hard to pass up an opportunity to try out my enhanced senses.

I slink my way down the hall towards the front desk. The new scent is coming from something in that direction, or someone. I… can’t say for certain, but… is that… some kind of animal?

Very strange.

I creep upstairs, moving as quick as I can to the banister overlooking the entrance. I can see a man talking to Rusty, though I can’t make him out. It’s dark in the museum after hours, and I keep my sunglasses on to prevent eye-shine. I take them off and give my eyes a second to adjust.

Ah, Sebastian Paige, he’s the Director of Anthropology for the museum. He’s been around once or twice at this hour so it’s not much of a surprise. Still, the scent is very unusual. Well, maybe. I guess, to be fair, he might always smell like that. I haven’t seen him since my transformation so I wouldn’t have noticed.

Well, whatever, I pop off my hat to get a better picture of what they’re talking about, and lean over the banister.

Ugh, boring. Mr. Paige is just here to do paperwork. Apparently this isn’t his only job. He’s probably a professor or something at a university, judging by appearances. On the other hand, that’s totally boring, and doesn’t explain why he’d smell so unusual. Maybe he’s an extra terrestrial? I repress a giggle. Still, it is very curious. I give a little sniff.

My heart skips a beat when the Director suddenly turns his head up to face me, and I tumble onto my butt. Thankfully I’m light and nimble so I don’t make a sound, though my pulse hammers too hard in my ears for me to make out the response from below. I slip my sunglasses on and creep to the edge, slowly calming down.

Oh… good, they’re still talking about nothing. I poke my head over again, this time staying much further back, and ready to retract into cover at a moments notice. The conversation continues, wandering through a few rounds of pleasantries before Mr. Paige wraps things up and sets off deeper into the museum.

I fully expect him to look up here, but he never does, disappearing into the far hallway without so much as a wayward glance. I turn my gaze to the ceiling. It’s totally dark up here, and there isn’t any kind of light that could silhouette my ears or body. Maybe there wasn’t even enough light from down below for eye-shine?

I guess I got away with it. Still, I don’t think I’ll do something like that again, too much excitement. I prefer my adventures in digital form, thank you very much.

Anyway, I head to the supply closet, probably creeping far more than necessary. I keep my hat off, just in case. I’m sure it doesn’t matter, but I really don’t want to bump into the Director tonight. I make it down without any trouble, and not for any particular reason decide to start dusting in the farthest corner of the museum.

The strategy works, and I make it to the end of my shift without seeing another soul, just as I like it. Rusty’s gone home, replaced by some other guy I don’t recognize. I kind of wish I’d gotten a chance to see the old chatterbox before he left. I’m sure he’d have told me all about Mr. Paige without prompting, but whatever.

I head out the back entrance. Some delivery vans are parked at the rear loading dock. A few men in black coveralls are carting in an oversized crate. One of them looks at me, and I give him a friendly wave. He doesn’t return it, just stops to stare.

Ah, crap, did I forget my hat? I reach up to check. No, it’s still there, sunglasses too. Maybe he’s surprised to see a wo—

I’m struck just below my shoulder with a sharp pain. I turn around as fast as I can, already feeling unsteady on my feet. There’s… no one…

I shake my head, and pull the dart from my back. Its liquid… contents… already depleted.

I clench my teeth, nipping my tongue in the process, then throw the dart as far as I can into the grass.

The… the guys… behind.

I take a deep breath as I turn around again. The men in black coveralls are almost on top of me.

My… claws. I press my hands together, forcing them through my gloves as… as I take a steady stance.

The— fucking… first…

I pounce forward, digging my hand into his chest.

A pair of hands grabs my arms. Too.. pulling.

I push myself further into the man in front of me, biting his shoulder.

A blow across my head sends my thoughts spiraling into darkness.

The last thing I hear is someone gasping, “This fucking bitch…”

I have only a feeble grasp of the what follows, a vague impression of a confined space, some kind of distant rumbling, bumps and sways, and a pungent mix of diesel exhaust and body spray. My next concrete moment is being dragged through a dimly lit space. It smells something like a zoo and a crowded barracks, a mishmash of musk and funk and hay. An incessant ringing fills my ears.

One of the men on my shoulders says, “The boss wants ‘em all processed right away.” He sounds like a Frank.

The other one replies, “I’m fucking bleeding like a stuck pig dipshit. It can fucking wait a few minutes.” Maybe a Tony?

I sense Frank look down at me. “We aren’t supposed to leave ‘em like this.”

“What, it’s fine. We already took her phone and shit,” Tony says. Frank makes a whiny hem. “You’re such a simp, man, whatever. We gave her a pat, she ain’t got nothing. You wanna strip her down right now, be my guest, but I’m heading to the doc.”

“Ah, fuck you man. If she causes trouble it’s on you.”

“Yeah yeah.” The pair of men pause in front of something. “We hit her with a full dose, she’ll be down for hours. Just toss this bitch in here and we’ll deal with her later.”

I hear a clack, followed by the rumble of steel, and then I’m unceremoniously dumped on the floor. I remain in a heap of misery as the gate slams into place behind them. I can hear them walk away, bitching and moaning. Tony makes some very vulgar promises about my fate, the kind you wouldn’t repeat in polite company.

So… this is fucking terrible. My head feels like a bucket of stirred shit, my thoughts come through a molasses swamp. My stomach is in an uproar, though I suspect that’s only for want of something to throw up. My arms, back, and neck are terribly sore, each in their own special ways.

Still… I’m alive. That’s something to work with. I painfully force myself up to my hands and knees, letting the wave of nausea pass through. After it’s settled down in my toes I manage to wrench myself up to my feet, with the benefit of a set of steel bars to my side.

What I see as I look around is not remotely encouraging. I appear to be in a prison cell, but a shitty kind out of the eighteen hundreds. There is no furniture, just a pile of mangy hay stuffed in one corner. There is an open drain on the other side, with a nearby faucet that I assume is meant to pull double duty as a source of water as well as a means to flush away any… waste.

I take a few seconds to breath, slowly letting my brain put itself back into working order, then take a moment to examine the cells near me. The one to my right has an identical arrangement, although it looks like its future occupant will at least get a bundle of rags for their trouble. I wonder if that’s part of the nebulous “processing” that I’ve just narrowly avoided… for now.

I look to the left and jump back in shock. I’m fixed by a pair of golden eyes. A tremor of fear ripples across my skin. After a moment, I’m able to break away from the gaze and take in the rest of the body. The creature is… some kind of giant rabbit woman, for lack of a better word.

She has a large pair of pointed ears atop her head, thiner and sharper than my own, as well as being placed further up. Her nose is small and a bit pointy, much like the rest of her narrow face. Her skin is a rich brown, except on the lips where she appears to be wearing a thin layer of pearlescent gloss. Her hair is perfectly white, matching the fur on her ears and tucked behind them.

All she’s wearing is a white cloth tied around her neck, just barely long enough to cover her breasts, and a white skirt made of the same material that goes down to her upper thigh. It looks like snippets from a hospital gown. She also has a set of shackles on her wrists and ankles, forcing her into a kneeling position.

Wait…

I turn back to the cell behind me and reexamine what I thought was a bundle of rags. Upon closer inspection I realize it’s some kind of wolf-like human. I would guess a woman, based on the shape of her waist and hips, though I can’t say for sure. She has mottled grey fur, fluffy ears, and a long tail with her skirt tucked under it.

There’s still some ringing in my ears, a side effect of head trauma or perhaps whatever drug they used, but when I lean in and listen carefully I hear a quiet whimper coming from the werewolf. In fact, I notice quite a few similar sounds from all around me. I further examine the area.

This seems to be some manner of prison warehouse. There are two levels, and two half rings of cells. There’s the one I’m in along the outer wall, and another inner ring surrounding some kind of clearing which I can see through the bars. Only about half the cells are occupied, each with some variation of animalistic human. There are also a handful of men stationed at odd intervals throughout the facility, lounging about in a sleepy way.

I turn to my neighboring captive and pull off my beanie. “Hey!” I whisper. “You, wolf girl!”

She turns to me and I see that guess was correct, her breasts lay uncovered due to her shirt bunching up at her neck. Her fiery blue eyes flash in terror.

I squat down, reaching my arm though the bars and beckon her to come closer. “It’s alright miss, I just want to talk.”

She gives the tiniest shake of her head, but I persist in calling for her. She eventually relents, and crawls across her cell to a place just out of reach.

“What’s your name?” I say.

She shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips, then says in a barely audible tone. “They’ll m-make an… e-example…” She presses her mouth shut, and motions towards the central clearing with her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

She doesn’t answer, just fixes me with a dismal look. I can already see a fresh round of tears welling up, but she seems determined to keep them in. After a few seconds it’s too much for her, and she turns and crawls back to her spot on the floor. I can hear a few extra sobs as I roll to my feet.

Well, okay, the werewolf girl is useless, but the bunny woman was promising. I move to the other side, kneeling low and leaning as far through the bars as I can manage. She watches with keen interest, and scoots as close as she can. She can only get about halfway, as there is a thick metal chain from her legs to a ring in the floor. I glance at my own floor to see a similar ring half buried under the pile of hay.

“What’s your name?” I whisper to her.

She leans over and replies in a hushed tone, “Faith. And you?” She has a vaguely foreign accent, but I can’t place it. She also has a strange aroma, very distinct, but not unpleasant.

“Steph.” I motion to the shackles on her wrists. “You must be pretty dangerous for them to have you locked up like that.”

She tsk’s, than says, “Hardly, they were just worried about my size.” She has a sour look on her face.

“Do you know what’s going on?”

“It’s a cult,” she says. “Call themselves the Last Light. They’ve been gathering up, uh…” she waves her head around to indicate the other captives.

“Demi-humans?” I offer.

“Yeah.” She nods. “They’ve been going around capturing them.”

“Why?”

“Who knows,” she shrugs. “To destroy them, to sell them, just for the hell of it? I don’t think it matters.”

“D-do you know, uh, what’s causing this?” I motion to myself. “I mean, did you used to be human too?”

She nods. “I did. As for the cause…” She looks off to the side, a thought passes through her eyes, then she shakes her head and shrugs. “Who’s to say?”

“How long have you been a, uh, bunny girl?”

“I think I prefer Wood Walker, and about two years. How long have you been a…” She looks me over.

“Cat-girl is fine, and this is my second month.”

She nods thoughtfully. “Longer than most.” She fixes me with a calculating look. “You shook off that poison quicker than most too.”

I look down at myself. She makes a good point. The two shit heads who threw me in here thought I would be out for hours, but I’m already feeling about as good as ever, situation aside. I look at Faith and give her a shrug. “Maybe they got their dosage wrong?”

She hums inquisitively.

“Well, with my coveralls on I look like a total featherweight, but I still weigh about a hundred pounds.”

Her eyes flash in surprise. “Really? Didn’t you loose mass in the change?”

“Yeah, about half, but I was in good shape before it happened so I guess the muscles stuck around, or at least most of them.”

She gives me a mischievous look. “I bet you’d make quite a surprise for them.”

I give her a hard look. “What do you mean?”

She smiles. “You’re not like most of the others in here,” she says. “Lost and broken. There’s some fire in you yet, plus you bought us time when you hurt the hunter who brought you in.”

“I take it you have a plan?”

She nods and runs her eyes over me. “Yes, but first you’re going to have to get naked.”

“Wh-what?” I say a bit too loud.

She shushes me, and then explains her strategy. It’s a long shot, to be sure, but it’s also the best chance I’ve got. Even if Grant and Tracy were capable of finding me, it could be days before they realize something is wrong. With no other options I reluctantly strip down.

I toss most of my clothes into Faith’s pen, where she hides them under her own pile of hay, but I keep the few items necessary to pull off our trick, namely, my coverall, boots, and hat. I then proceed to start stuffing my things full of straw.

I’m making good progress when a click from Faith warns me that a pair of guards are on their way. I bury my work as best I can, and then lie on top to be extra certain. I’m confident nothing is poking out, but I only have one chance at this so I don’t want to risk it.

I’m facing away from door so I can’t see what they’re up to, but they aren’t making a stealthy approach. In fact, they’ve started a load and vulgar conversation, making lewd comments about the women they see.

Eventually they pass in front of Faith’s cell, where they stop.

One of them laughs and says, “Looks like the angry bunny still ain’t learned her place.” He sounds like a Junior.

“It’s a shame to see such a nasty look on such a pretty face,” the other one says. Maybe a Jeff. “But don’t you worry little rabbit, your time’s coming soon enough.”

They laugh, and then move onto the next cell. That is, mine.

“Looky here,” Junior says. “Fresh meat. Looks like she didn’t earn her rags in processing.” He chuckles.

“Another feisty one?” Jeff says. “Those are always fun.” He bangs on the bars. “You, kitten, why don’t you crawl over here and show me what you got, since you’re so eager to live like a wild animal.”

My fur stands on end, and I bite down a growl.

He slams on the gate again and yells, “If you know what’s good for ya you’ll do as I say!” I carefully peel myself away from the hay and stand to face him. Before I can take a step he barks, “I said crawl!”

It takes me a second or two to work up the nerve to do what he says, but after a deep breath I drop to my hands and knees to approach him.

“That’s right, on the floor like the beast you are,” Jeff sneers. When I reach his feet he drags me up by the hair. I take a moment to examine the two men. Jeff is a decent size, about my old height and he looks in good shape. There’s a gun of some kind slung to his back, but unfortunately he hasn’t got a set of keys on him.

Junior whistles from behind and says, “She’s a right little perky one, ain’t she?” He looks to be the younger of the two. He has a gun as well, and a set of keys slung from his waist. If he was just a few feet closer I might be able to do something with that, but for now I’ve got to bide my time.

“Someone’s gonna make a hell of a pet outta you,” Jeff says. He leans down and grabs one of my breasts, fondling it roughly and pinching the nipple. I flinch, but manage to stand in place. “Right shame we’re not aloud to, ah, spoil you unnecessarily before the buyers have their look.”

“Ay, true,” Junior says. “Little body like her’s’d be something else I bet. Gonna fetch a great price for the boss, no doubt.”

Jeff throws me to the ground. “Why don’t you show us a bit a spirit later, so we can see how good you squeal.” He bellows a nasty laugh, and joins Junior as they walk to the next cell.

I feel a deathly calm in by body, watch the world pass in perfect clarity. It’s too much for me to make the slow careful moves necessary to return to the bed, so I just lay in place as the adrenaline burns out.

Meanwhile, one of the men bangs on the door to the werewolf’s cell.

“Great news, bitch,” Junior says. “They found someone looking for a nice pet.”

“I’m sure he’ll treat you real good,” Jeff says. “Long as you act right.”

I hear the woman rise to her feet, and I assume back into the rear part of her cage. She’s whimpering something incoherent.

“Don’t you go flailing about,” Junior says. “It’d hurt my pride ta have to ship damaged goods.”

I hear a puff of air, like from a dart gun. The werewolf doesn’t react, and it seems the men are satisfied. They unlock the door, and slide it open with a rusty screech. The woman starts to beg for mercy, slurring her words heavily, though the men don’t act like they can hear it at all. They drag her out, and I see them pass in front of me. Tears run down the poor girl’s face.

Once they are well out of sight I roll to my front. My arms and legs are shaking, but I’m able to to crawl to the hay pile. I take a few moments to catch my breath and regain control.

Faith clicks at me and says, “You better work quick.”

I nip my own arm, drawing blood, but getting a measure of calm into my head, and resume my task. I’m only interrupted a few times by a patrolling guard, and I have to shovel a few more loads of hay in from Faith’s cell to make sure I have enough. Eventually, I finish a half decent facsimile of myself, made of hay, boots, and coverall, though I’m still missing a head.

I leave the straw-me laying flat on the ground, and crawl over to Faith’s side. I catch her eye, and she leans over to toss a metal pail. She’s somehow bent it enough to slip through the bars, and inside I find a pile of white hair. I assemble the last pieces, using my beanie to hold Faith’s hair in place over the bucket, and then drag as much hay as I can to a space beside the gate.

Finally, it’s time to execute. I prop the fake me against the far wall, tying it in place with a strip of cloth, and then bury myself in straw. I give my best wolf howl. I get a few in reply, which I assume are involuntary.

Someone down below yells for us to shut up.

I howl again. I don’t get a response. I’m guessing the others were on guard against instinct this time.

“Whichever mongrel is doing that gets an hour in the pit!” Is that Jeff? Part of me hopes it is.

I howl one final time, giving it my all before tucking into my hiding place. I make sure to pin my tail under my knees. It’s painful, but I can’t risk it tipping them off.

“That’s it you bitch!” Maybe Jeff yells. I hear shuffling from downstairs, and he barks for someone to come with. Hopefully it’s just two of them. I might be a tiny bundle of muscles and claws, but I’m hardly super human.

I hear a tumult of jumbled boots stomping their way up to my level. I can’t tell how many. I press into the bars behind me, compressing my body like a spring.

“Which one of you whores is today’s eager slut?” That is Jeff, he’s almost to my cell. “You! If you think swiping a fucking jumpsuit is going to make this easier on you, you’re in for a sore fucking awakening.”

I see him out of the corner of my eye. It looks like it’s just him and one other man, though it’s hard to say though the thick layer of straw.

“Ooh, two big men here to bully the little kit cat,” Faith says in a sultry tone.

“You’ll get your turn!” Jeff snaps at her. He turns towards my cell and I hear him slot the key into the old lock. “Yeah, just stand right there, and maybe we’ll be gentle.” The man behind him fires a dart at the straw me and then Jeff adds, “For your first time.”

They throw the gate open. It slams into the end of its track before Jeff has more than a foot inside. The world falls away from my senses, leaving just me and the two men walking into my field of fire. Jeff steps forward, leaving space for the man behind to enter. It’s the one I called Junior. I wait until he’s half past my center line.

Then I pounce.

Junior has just enough awareness to turn his head towards me as I connect. I drive my right hand though his throat, dragging his neck into the bars opposite myself, before the last chunks of flesh tear away and he slumps to the floor. A spray of blood hits my face, forcing my eye closed as I turn to face Jeff.

He’s had just enough time to turn towards me, eyes bulged in shock. A flicker of terror ignites in his pupils. He starts to pull a weapon forward from his back just as I make footfall. I dip a little, then bounce up into him. I feel something clip my foot just before I dig my toes-claws into his thighs. My right hand latches onto his upper arm.

He opens his mouth to scream, but I jam my left hand between his teeth and rip the soft flesh within. He gurgles in pain as I throw myself into him, forcing him to the ground. We land with a solid thud and my razor sharp nails are driven an inch deeper. I take a moment to push myself up, mounting his chest. I hear a gurgle behind me, and feel Junior feebly grasp my leg.

Finally, I pull my right hand across, jab my nails into the tendons in his neck, and then drag my fingers through with a violent twist. A slab of meat slaps into the bars as an explosion of blood splatters my face.

I stand, shaking my hands free of excess liquid, then wipe my eyes clear with the fur on the back of my arm. There’s a horrible urge to lick my hands clean, but I have no time to be repulsed. This isn’t over by a long shot.

I yank the keys from Junior’s belt, and run to Faith’s cell. I hear bemused chatter from down below. It seems I wasn’t quiet enough. Thankfully every gate is keyed the same, so I have no trouble unlocking the door and sliding it open. A harsh metal clang reverberates through the prison.

The keyring has a few other items. Hopefully one of them will unlock Faith’s bindings, or else I’m in a world of trouble. I drop the ring at her knees and say, “When you’re free, start unlocking the others.”

She starts to reply, but I’m already out the door and running down the metal walkway. I hear thundering footsteps coming up the nearby stairwell. It’s too far to ambush them in that narrow hall. It is not, however, too far to jump down to the ground level. I poke my head over the side and see a man walking below. He seems to be setting up for just such a possibility, but he’s not in position yet. Before he can make it there, I drop on top of him.

The force of my legs colliding with his shoulders is enough to slam him into the ground. He lies stunned for a moment, before I dig my claws into his gut and give them a twist.

He cries in agony. I let it carry on a second or two, before ripping through the arteries in his neck. All that’s left is a pathetic gurgle. I push to my feet, and then dash towards a wide hallway between the inner ring and the dividing wall. I hear the men stomping back down the stairwell.

I pass two rows of cells, and find myself in the central clearing that they referred to as the pit. There isn’t much to it, just a narrow metal table with some straps attached, but I’m nevertheless thankful I didn’t stick around long enough to see it in use.

Before I’m able to make it to the passage on the other side a man storms out of the stairwell in front of it. He sees me, a jolt of fear in his eyes, but still has enough presence of mind to draw his weapon. I dive behind a nearby cage just in time to dodge a dart whizzing by my ears.

Normally a tranquilizer gun is a single shot weapon, but the ones these men have produce an electric whir after each shot that makes me think they have an auto-reloading feature. I certainly don’t want to test the theory by stepping out in front of the man, so I fall back into the pit.

I glance at the table, to see if I could throw it over to use as cover, but it’s bolted to the ground. Instead I settle for one of the steel pillars holding up the overhead walkway. I’m just barely small enough for it to cover my body.

“She’s in the pit!” The man who was in front yells. I poke my head out just enough to see he’s taking cover behind the cages, for some reason.

“Nowhere to run you fucking psycho bitch!” A man from the other side yells. I see two other men coming up with him.

“Make sure you take her alive!” Adds another from that side. “I’m going to make her ass pay dearly for what—“

Before he can finish Faith drops behind him. I have no idea how she managed to jump in at that angle, but I barely have time to wonder before she kicks that last man so hard I hear bones crunch from all the way over here. Blood sprays from his mouth as he goes flying.

The other two don’t have time to process before another one is slammed headfirst into the wall by a powerful kick. Judging by the sound I assume he dies instantly as well. The third one barely has his head turned before Faith drops her foot onto his throat. He’s carried to the floor, and then decapitated by the force of impact.

That… that’s far too strong. Even as thick as her legs are, it shouldn’t be possible to hit that hard.

The man from my end was on his guard, so he manages to aim and start firing before she leaps after him… not that it does him any good. I don’t see what happens, but the squelch suggests he fairs the same as the others.

I’m flush with adrenaline, so in spite of mounting horror I dash to Faith. She’s pulling a few darts from her body as I approach. They clatter on the ground, drug reservoirs fully spent.

“Are you okay?” I say. I note she’s wearing my shirt and underwear, but now isn’t the time to complain.

“It’s nothing,” Faith replies, and it seems to be true. Even her heart beats at a steady pace, unmoved by her efforts. “I have things to attend to in this facility, would you like to come with and help?”

“I can, but what about the others?” I motion to the cages.

“I gave an otter the keys,” she says. “She can handle the rest.”

Sure enough, I hear a gate sliding open up above, and a few voices speaking urgently. “Is there another set of keys?” I say, though Faith doesn’t seem to notice. I chance a look at the nearby man. A torrent of blood was forced out of his mouth… as well as a few other bits, but that’s not what I’m looking for. I thought I saw a keyring on him earlier, and sure enough there’s one slung to his waist.

“We need to act fast,” Faith says.

“Just give me a few seconds.” I snatch the keys and run to the nearest cell, unlocking it and walking in. There’s a terrified looking woman inside, with small triangular ears on top of her head and bright orange fur, somewhat like a fox. In spite of the fear in her eyes, she hasn’t taken leave of her senses. I press the keys into her hands. “Get everyone out of here.”

She wraps her hands around mine, hooking the ring into her fingers, then grits her teeth and nods.

I scurry back to Faith, who’s moved to a set of double wide doors. A pair of handles sit in the middle. I grab one and give it a tug. It doesn’t budge an inch. Faith glances at me, but before I can suggest grabbing the keys, she wrenches the handle out of place with a crunch, then pries the door open.

“What the hell are you?” I say, but she’s long gone. I chase after and find myself in a long hallway. The difference is stunning. The prison has an air of decay, like a run down relic from a dreary past. Here things look fresh and new, like a recently remodeled modern office. Bright lights fill the space, and if not for the horror show I walked out of I could be back at my last job.

Faith already at the far end of the hall, in spite of it being more than a hundred feet away. She lays flat against the left wall, carefully peeking around the corner. There is a path to the right as well, which according to a helpful sign should lead towards the nearest exit.

She looks back as I approach. “There’s an elevator coming down on the right,” she says. “And a pair of women in that room across from it.” She grabs me as she turns around the corner, and pushes me towards a blue door. I can see the words “Subject Processing” painted on it in white letters. “You deal with the women, I’ll handle the men on the lift.”

Before I can object she’s forcing me inside, where I find a pair of women chatting idly about their social lives. They appear to be medical professionals. There is also the werewolf woman Jeff and Junior dragged away earlier lying nude on a medical table. She is bound, gagged, blindfolded, and some kind of metallic collar has been fitted to her neck. A blinking green light suggests it has electronic functions.

One of the technicians catches sight of me in her peripheral. She turns, her eyes flash in terror and she cries out. Her friend glances my way and gasps, then dashes towards a red panel on the far wall. I leap across the room, passing the first woman, and catching the second just in time to stop her from pulling what is almost certainly an alarm.

I throw her to the floor, and give her a sharp kick in the throat as I lunge after the first woman. She’s backing away, fumbling for something behind her, but I grab her and slam her into the table with the wolf girl. The captive woman whimpers at the sudden impact.

I have a lot of questions for the medic, but only time for a few. “How do I remove the collar?” I yell, twisting her head to put it in view.

I let up on her a little, freeing her arm. She points to a space in the corner. I turn and see a plain looking white countertop sat above and below a line of white cabinets. There’s something that looks like a smart phone sitting on top of it. Before I can ask anything else, I’m interrupted by a tremendous racket outside. There’s yelling, cries of agony, horrible crunches, and dreadful thuds, followed by an earsplitting alarm.

When things calm down, I ask, “How does it work?”

“There’s an app,” she says. She starts to motion off somewhere and says, “The pin is—“

Before she can finish a foot flashes in between us and connects with her face. Her head slumps down in an unnatural pose and her body goes limp. I jump back as Faith barrels around me towards the second woman. She kills her with one well placed stomp.

“What the hell!” I say.

“Just dispose of them quickly,” Faith replies. When I give her a troubled look she adds, “You’ll never be able to live in peace unless this organization is annihilated.”

I frown. She is probably right, and frankly judging by the character of the people I’ve seen so far I can’t say they don’t deserve it. Still… “You could have at least waited until she told me how to undo the collar.” I point at the metal band on the werewolf’s neck.

“There’s no time for that,” she says. I fix her with a hard stare, but she’s unfazed. “Fine, you can rescue the pup, I’m going ahead.”

With that, Faith bounds out of the room. I can’t say I don’t wish her the best of luck, but… I shake my head. Whatever, I’ve got work to do. The woman is forced into a fetal position by her bindings, a set of leather straps stitched in place across her arms and legs. She has no freedom of movement, and I assume was meant to be cut loose when she arrived at her destination. 

It takes some work, and a lot of chewing, but eventually I’m able to get her undone enough to lay flat on the table. I’ve been giving her comforting words as I went, though she doesn’t make even a peep in response. I’m worried she might have passed out, or perhaps be drugged out of her mind. In any case, now that she’s uncurled I’m able to take off the gag and blindfold.

The look in her eyes is not particularly hopeful, but she does at least have some level of awareness. I help her into a seated position, and then hop onto the table so I’m at eye-level with her.

“Hi dear,” I say. “It’s going to be alright, okay?” She doesn’t seem convinced. “Can you tell me your name?”

She shakes her head and motions towards the collar on her neck. It must have some kind of function to keep her quiet.

“Let’s get that thing off of you then,” I say. She still has a couple straps attached, so I push one on her arms towards her mouth. “Can you chew this off for me while I work on the collar?”

She nods weakly, and puts the leather into her mouth and bites down. Her teeth aren’t as sharp as mine, but she still makes a little progress. I leave her to work while I head to the controller off in the corner. 

Sure enough the thing is locked. It looks like it takes a simple four digit pin to undo. I’m tempted to start trying random combinations, but I suspect it might cause the device to lock up or do something worse if I do.

Instead I start exploring the room. The medic woman seemed to be implying it was nearby, so hopefully I’ll find it lying around somewhere. Just to be safe I check the back of the phone, and hop up on the table to examine the back of the collar before I start digging around elsewhere. No luck, so I move on.

While I’m searching a hear the distant report of gunfire. It flares up and then stops, and for a heart wrenching moment I’m sure Faith has been shot down and that men will be on their way down shortly. When more shots sound off a minute or so later I assume she managed to push through, and decide to hope for the best.

After a little more investigation I find an envelope sitting in the other corner on top of a pile of… let’s call them accessories. I rip it open and scan the letter within. The language is vague in a creepy sort of way, but buried in a passage labeled “Special treats for your new pet” I find a four digit number. A quick test get’s me into the controller, where I find a handful of “apps” with seemingly innocent names. I do my best not to imagine what their real functions are while I look for one likely to control the collar.

I find it buried in a folder called “For Advanced Users,” and after tapping though the gamut of confirmations and warnings I eventually get the metal band to pop off the werewolf’s neck. She yelps in surprise as it drops into her lap. I scoot back in front of her and take one of her hands.

“It’s okay,” I say. “You’re free.” Her grave look doesn’t suggest she trusts me. In fact, she still seems about ready to curl up in a ball to wait for death. “Why don’t you tell me your name?” While she’s thinking about that, I lean down to bite through the last remaining strap, the one binding her ankles.

Eventually she says, “My n-name is… Gary.”

I pop up after freeing her legs… his legs? Problem for later. “Gary? Then you used to be a man too? I’m Stephen, though I always went by Steph anyway so you can call me that.”

Gary nods and says, “Th-thanks, Steph. I-I… I…” tears start running down his cheeks.

I pat him on the hand and say, “It’s okay, Gary. Can you hop down for me?” I gently pull him forward, and give him my best attempt at a friendly smile. It’s hard to do without showing teeth, but he nevertheless allows himself to be lead to the floor.

I leave him there a moment while take the blouse off the nearby dead woman. There’s only a little blood on it. I hand it up to him, and he slides it over his shoulders. I’m tempted to grab another one for myself, but I can’t justify spending the time. Besides, an oversized shirt might prove to be a liability in the not so distant future. I hoist myself back up to Gary, and take his hand.

Standing side by side I see that he’s around two feet taller than me. Judging by the waifish frame I wouldn’t be surprised if we were the same weight. A little part of my mind wonders if that’s because he used to be a noodley string bean or just a consequence of the transformation. Definitely not the time to be thinking about that.

“Do you k-know what’s going on?” Gary asks.

“Not really,” I shrug. I start pulling him towards the door. “And to paraphrase the terrifying bunny woman, we’re in too much of a rush to talk about it anyway.”

“Bunny woman?”

“Well, she prefers Wood Walker,” I say. “You might have heard some of her handiwork earlier.” I guide him through the door, and see some of her handiwork sitting across the hall. A man with a crushed chest is wedged between the half closed doors of the elevator. I’m pretty sure he’s the one I was calling Frank. I quickly turn Gary away from the sight and aim him to the left, towards the hallway I came from earlier and the path promising an escape.

I see the fox woman by the intersection. She’s yelling at someone out of sight, telling them to get a move on. When she turns and sees me, she calls out “Steph,” and then runs over. She’s wearing one the the guard uniforms. It’s baggy, but tied down enough not to be tripping over it. I’m a little jealous.

“What’s your status?” I ask.

“We’re just getting the last of the stragglers now,” she says.

“Good work, uh…?”

“Belle.”

“Yes, thank you Belle,” I say. I put one of the werewolf’s hands into hers. “This is Gary, can you take h-him with you and get the others as far away from here as possible?”

“You’re not coming with?” Belle says. She gestures down the hall, where I see a scale covered woman step into a distant staircase. “There’s a loading dock down there, and it leads straight into the forest.”

“Great, that will give you a chance to shake off any pursuers,” I say. “After you get clear, you’ll want everyone to lay low. I, uh, can’t really tell you how, but”—I take her other hand and look into her eyes—“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Belle.”

She clenches her jaw and nods. “Right, I’ll do my best. What are you going to do?”

I look down the hall behind me. A few gunshots ring somewhere in the distance. “I’m going to help Faith put an end to this,” I say.

Belle looks me in the eye and says, “The rabbit woman, right?” I nod. “She’s… she’s a scary woman. Be careful.”

I let go of her, leaving a bloody handprint where I’d grabbed on. I totally forgot about that. I must look terrifying right now. Belle takes off with Gary in tow. He’s gotten more energetic, so it seems he finally believes he’ll be making it out of here.

I turn away before they disappear into the exit and start running down my own path. Judging by the state of the elevator I’m assuming Faith couldn’t find a way to ride it upstairs, so I decide to take the stairwell on the far end. I pass a few doors that have been kicked in. I’m sure there’s nothing to see beyond them except a corpse or two. That woman is terrifyingly thorough.

I barrel into the staircase, and start climbing to the next level, trying not to look at the two dead bodies as I pass. They weren’t even armed, just a man and a woman in casual business attire. I pop out the first door I see and find myself on the ground floor. It’s a vast space full of glass walled offices. An attractive looking foyer is off to the right. Several windows are shattered, and a few bodies litter the ground.

There’s also a huge crowd of armed men standing out front. They appear to be forming up for some kind of maneuver, though quite a few of them are facing off to the right… where I just sent Belle and the others. Shit.

Thankfully, or perhaps not, none of them are looking over the ground floor. Their gaze is drawn somewhere up above. I dash the short distance down the open hall towards the foyer, and wedge the inside doors open on a nearby chair. Then I march to the front door and throw it open.

I wish I’d found a machine gun, or at least grabbed one of those dart guns. Instead I’ll have to settle for cutting words. “Go fuck your own mother!” I yell as loud as I can. Okay, not that cutting, but it got their attention, for all the good that will do. As quick as I can I scramble inside and towards the stairs. An uncomfortably large number of bullets chase after me as I dive behind a concrete wall.

Well, I’m not sure I got any of them following me, and I’m not about to check, but at least I distracted them.

While the men outside decide how to react I run up to the next level. This one is similar to the first one, minus the entrance. It’s even got its own set of matching corpses. Faith is a consistent decorator. The murder bunny isn’t here either, so I jump back into the stairs and advance to the final level. I’m going to feel real stupid if Faith is long gone.

I barrel through the door, just in time to slam into an armed guard walking past it. He’s wielding a rubber baton, which I barely manage to prevent slamming into my head. It still hits me something fierce on the shoulder. I pounce on him, digging in with my claws, and then push off from the wall to slam his face into the ground.

It doesn’t kill him instantly, of course, though with head injuries it can be a matter of time. In any case I’m not going to finish him off, and I don’t have time to worry about it anyway. I stand up, scanning up and down the hall. This level is different than the others, lacking the glass walls and open floor plan of the first two. There’s a bounty of doors in either direction, and a generous helping of blood and bodies flopped haphazardly down the aisle on one side, and a small crowd of still living bodies on the other.

Faith is squared off against three men to the left, although she isn’t in the best condition. She’s slumped halfway into the wall, wobbling perilously on her feet. Two of her opponents are slowly closing the distance, batons at the ready. The third turned to face the sudden disturbance, i.e. me. He eyes me warily, and to my great concern he’s holding a pistol.

He turns his head off to the side and says, “Do we gotta catch every one of ‘em alive?” Sounds like a Pete.

One of the men behind him says, “Nah, the rabbit’s the one we’re looking for, the others are disposable. Still, if you take it alive the boss might let you keep it as a pet.”

“Aight,” Pete says. He turns back to me and says, “Here kitty-kitty, why don’t you be a good little girl and lay on the floor.”

He’s slowly raising the gun towards me as he speaks. I quickly search my memory, but I don’t recall passing anything helpful. I could duck into the staircase, but I hear movement down there. It seems the men outside are finally pushing in. Staying in the hallway’s no good either, not at this distance, so I decide to make my last stand in a nearby office. Maybe I can set up some kind of ambush.

I jump in the opposite direction, bouncing off the wall and narrowly avoiding a shot, then tumble in through the open door, dragging a body out of the way, then slam it shut and… and…

Sweet merciful god in heaven… I’m trembling….

Is that a gun?

I snatch it off the ground, resisting the urge to hug it to my chest, though I plant a kiss on the side. I do a quick check to make sure it’s loaded and the safety’s off, and then give it another kiss for good measure.

“I’ve got her pinned down in an office,” I hear Pete say outside. My ears tell me he’s taken a position to the side of the door. Someone responds, but I can’t make it out. “Right, of course,” he answers back.

I creep close to the wall, then squat down and press my ear onto the cool surface. I stretch out one hand, and give the wall a tap in a few different places. It seems to be made of ordinary interior paneling, that is two sheets of gypsum with a few inches of insulation between them.

“What are you doing in there kitten?” Pete says. He’s standing in the same place.

I step away a foot or so, increasing the angle between us, then raise my pistol.

The sharp report is painful to my ears, but I push through and fire twice more for good measure. There’s one return shot through the door three feet away. I storm into the hallway, and see Pete feebly attempt to drag his arm up. I put a final bullet in his head, and turn to face the other two.

One of them has turned to face me. Terror burns in his eyes. The other is torn between the struggling woman before him, and the commotion behind.

I drop to one knee, drawing the pistol to the closer man. Two shots send him tumbling to the floor. The second man turns away from Faith, completely stunned. He lets the baton slip from his grasp, but before he can say anything or raise his arms, Faith suddenly lunges forward and kicks him hard in the chest. I hear his ribs crunch. He drops to his side, coughing and moaning.

I run to Faith, who’s staring down at him. I’m sure she’s contemplating another kick to his neck.

“Faith!” I call out.

She looks at me with dull eyes. After a second she manages to slur, “Steph… you, came back?”

“Well, of course. I promised I’d help, didn’t I?” I ease her to the floor. There are a few spent darts sticking out of her, which I pull out. Judging by the splotches of blood on her shirt she’s been hit by at least a dozen in total. It’s amazing she’s still alive, let alone conscious.

She brings one of her hands to my cheek, touching it gently and resting her forehead on my own. “You… you’re really… sweet,” she says. “Thanks… for the rescue.”

I smile, “Unfortunately this might be more like delaying the inevitable.” I motion towards the stair case. “There’s a whole army of ‘em marching up here as we speak, and I only have so many bullets.”

She pulls her other arm up to my shoulders, and fixes me with her best determined gaze. “Can… can you buy me… a few minutes?”

“I’ll do my best,” I say. I stand up, and run to Pete. I hear people stomping up the stairwell as I pop the magazine out of his gun. I’d love to search him for more, or at least get the round from the chamber, but I am completely out of time. I step into the staircase, using Pete to prop the door open, and lean just close enough to the bannister to see the crowd of men below.

I pop a few rounds into the mass of bodies, and withdraw just in time to avoid a hail of return fire. In the narrow tunnel the noise is much worse. A little part of my mind is fretting about my future case of tinnitus. The rest of me is working to make sure I live that long.

“Be careful you idiots!” Someone yells down below. “We need the rabbit alive.” More conversation follows but I can’t make it out, especially with my ears ringing.

Still, it sounds like I have a bit of an advantage, which I press by taking another risky peek over the edge. The men are squeezed out of my field of fire, crowded halfway up the second floor. There’s a narrow space in front of them where I’ll have a clear shot. That’s my opportunity.

I only need to hold them off for a little while, and I should have just over twenty bullets. I can turn that into a few minutes. A silly part of me is hoping that Faith is powering up some fiery death beams, though I expect it’s just time for her to recover from the poison. Where we go from there is a mystery, but I’m taking this one step at a time.

I hold my fire until the first man enters my sight. He’s no idiot, keeping his gun aimed in my direction, so I pop off a round well before I get a clean shot. It misses, of course, but he jumps out of the way. I don’t wait for him to attempt it again, and start firing off a single shot every five to ten seconds.

They seem to sense my intent, not making any attempts to push through, and honestly I can see why. I haven’t got a bullet factory up here, and every shot I put into the wall down there is one I won’t be putting into one of them later. If I want to sit up here a few extra minutes they haven’t got any reason to stop me.

I go through seven rounds with my first magazine. If Pete only fired one shot, that should leave me with fifteen more. I count them out carefully, and on the fourteenth I’m pleased to see the slide remains locked forward. One bullet to go.

I’ve got a special plan for this one. It might be a little spiteful, but I aim to take at least one of those motherfuckers down with me. I lay flat on the upper landing, aiming my body towards the open door and my arm off to the side. After a few seconds the men below decide I’m probably out of ammo, so they start stomping past my earlier field of fire.

They are moving cautiously, but even with my hearing as bad as it is they are noisy enough for me to guess their progress. I wait until one unlucky bastard is just out of my line of sight, and then push up. He was ready for something, but unfortunately for him he guessed wrong about where I would come from. I plant a round square in his head before he can fix his aim.

I see a very satisfying red splatter against the far wall as I scramble out of the stair well. A few seconds later I hear an outpouring of gunfire. I guess they had quite enough of my shit, so now they are raking the landing with bullets as they approach. That’s fine by me. Every second they spend shooting up empty space is a second they aren’t storming after me.

Faith is no longer in the hallway. I hear some kind of mechanical whirr from the adjacent office. Inside I find the bunny woman, leaning against the wall next to a printer. She’s a little out of it, but her eyes and ears perk up the moment I enter the room.

“I hope you’re ready,” I say. “Because they’ll be right behind me.”

She nods, forces herself to her full height, and then drags a massive steel desk into position in front of the door, forming a sturdy barricade. She piles a few more things on top and I’m reminded again of how freakishly strong she is.

“What are you really?”

She notices the question this time at least, though the look she gives doesn’t seem to promise an answer. After a moment she says, “It’s complicated.”

Before I can press the issue, or even deride her response, I’m interrupted by a thud against the door. Thankfully Faith’s barrier holds back the initial barrage, but I’m certain we won’t have more than a few minutes before this office is swarming with men. I take a moment to look around and evaluate my options.

Faith is standing next the the printer, which is slowly rolling through whatever job she put it up to. There are a few more desks nearby, each with a modern computer installed on top. Slumped against one of those desks is a dead woman who’s… who’s been…

I turn to Faith and say, “What the fuck did you do to her?”

“I needed information,” she replies, and clearly isn’t inclined to elaborate further.

Whatever. The terminator bunny is the least of my worries. The only other thing of interest nearby is an opening where a window has been pushed out. I assume it was Faith’s doing, so maybe that’s the escape plan. I walk closer to check it out. The first thing I see is a two story parking garage. It seems hopeful at first, until I realize it must be at least fifty feet away. There’s no possible way I could make that jump.

Still, we’re only three stories up, even as dense as I am I could probably survive the fall if I rolled out of it. And besides, Faith certainly seems tough enough to take the impact. Maybe she could carry me?

I poke my head out the window and look down.

Oh… right… the army of goons. I lurch back just in time to dodge a few bullets that go wizzing by my ears. I cast a harsh glance at Faith. She could have warned me.

But then, to be fair, she isn’t looking so hot right now. There’s a despondent air to her as she watches each sheet slide from the printer.

“Doesn’t look like we’re getting out of this little predicament,” I say. I try to put it in an irreverent tone, though it doesn’t sound very convincing. “Did you hurt them bad enough to make it stick?”

She doesn’t respond, and we sit in relative silence for a few seconds, with nothing but the steady pounding on the door and rhythmic whirr of the printer as it churns out a few more pages.

Finally, the last sheet pops out and the machine gradually relaxes. Faith grabs the papers and loads them into a manilla envelope she had nearby, and then turns to look at me. Her eyes are dreary, full of remorse and regret. She walks up and kneels to my height, locking me in a firm embrace.

I feel her tears splash down my cheek and I return the hug. “It’s okay,” I say. “At least we’re here together, right?”

She lets out a dreadful sob, and starts to tremble. I try to give her a gentle pat, but she pushes away and we lock eyes. Her face is a mess but there’s a glint of terrible determination. She tenses her body, and I feel the monstrous strength of her grip press into me. For a split second I think she’s about to kill me, but instead she goes suddenly limp and whimpers.

Before I can say anything, she bolts up and charges towards the open window. She plants both feet right on the edge as she compresses like a spring ready to burst, then launches herself through the air. I step after her just enough to see her fly across the gap between this building and the parking garage, and land smoothly on its roof. She rolls into a run, and disappears into the forest before I can draw my next breath.

She didn’t even look back.

I…

I… mean…

I look down at my right hand, raising it slightly. I still have the pistol.

Part of me thinks I should have saved that last bullet.

Unfortunately, I’m rather something of a stubborn bastard, in my own way, so I doubt it would have done any good. At least I managed to spend it on one of those fucking bastard motherfuckers. That was nice.

I sigh and meander to a nearby desk. I take the pistol, and not for any good reason at all, do my best to wedge it into a hiding place underneath. It… it’s just… been very good to me, in the short time we’ve been together, and I hate the idea of leaving it to be used by one of those shit heads outside.

After putting away the gun I hop on top of the desk, facing the surrounding forest. It’s a lovely view. I didn’t spend much time appreciating stuff like this in my life. Never saw the point.

Still, now… here at the… at this point… it’s nice.

I don’t keep track of how long the men spend beating down the door. And when it tumbles open with a terrible crash I don’t so much as twitch my ears. I feel three or four painful jabs in my back, and then the rough grip of a multitude of hands as I’m slammed face first into the floor. I’m held in place as my arms are wrenched behind me, and bound together with a pair of zip cuffs. My senses slowly abandon their duties, blurring together in a haze of darkness.

The last thing I hear before I black out is someone say, “Take it down to the holding cell.”

My senses come back one at a time. First, smell. Some kind of harsh chemical odor. The shock hastens the return of touch, though I wish it hadn’t. Everything hurts. I feel a tight pressure on my throat and around my neck. My arms are locked behind me, bound in place just above my feet. Soft cufflinks bind my wrists and ankles. I’m kneeling on a hard surface, though my fur provides a small measure of padding.

I also seem to be wearing clothes? I shift around a little, and sure enough there is cloth over my body.

“Ah, you’re awake,” someone says. A man with a soft voice, though not a kind one by any measure. “Sorry for the bindings, but, ah, you see, you have proven yourself to be a rather dangerous creature.”

I try to look towards him, but I realize I have a covering over my eyes. It’s not exactly soft, but it must be thick as I can’t see even a single speck of light.

“It seems you were a well chosen decoy,” the man continues. “Stephen Alexander. Five years of military service, three tours over seas.”

“Just a truck driver,” I say, though I immediately regret it. I meant to stay quiet, especially while I’m shackled to the floor.

“Yes, one who’d been nominated for a Silver Star, though I see the petition was withdrawn at the same time you were discharged three years early. Now why was that, I wonder? There are some frightening rumors in this report, and judging by the bodies you left behind I’m inclined to believe them.”

I manage to hold my tongue, biting my teeth together hard enough strain my jaw.

“Ah, sorry, I seem to be getting under your skin,” the man says. I hear him fuss with a few papers for a second, as though folding something up. “I’m just commenting on your performance today. The men here thought you might have been another progenitor.”

“Pro—?” I start to blurt out, then cut myself off with a sharp hiss.

“Now now, there’s no need for you to be so guarded with me,” the man says. “You are, after all, as much the victim in this war as we are.”

My ears perk up when he says ‘war’, betraying my curiosity. Stupid treacherous ears.

“Yes, a war,” the man says. He sounds terribly pleased. “One that started before you were born. In fact, one may say, it was the war we were born into.”

“A war with who?” I ask. Part of me justifies it by saying I’m gathering intel on an enemy force, but the truth is I’m dreadfully curious. I sense this man has the answer to questions I’d given up as unknowable. Questions like, why was I turned into a cat-girl.

“The war against god, of course.”

I almost burst out laughing, but he’s deadly serious. “What the hell are you talking about. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh, there’s so much you don’t understand,” he says sadly. “So much the world doesn’t understand. If you only knew, I mean, truly knew, what the Last Light warned us against…”

“If you’re trying to recruit me into your cult it’s a waste of time. The only thing I want from you fucks is your heads on a pike.”

“Yes, of course, it would be foolish to think any kind of real trust could form between us,” the man says. “But that’s not to say we can’t be of some use to each other.”

“No thanks,” I scoff. “I’ve seen what kind of use you have for people like me.”

The man hums, then says. “The… suppression efforts, did not go precisely as I recommended.”

“Suppression? That’s an interesting way to describe human trafficking.”

The man remains silent for a moment. “Not every member of our organization is quite as… dedicated. When our enemy began to cheat at their own game some of our more… self-interested partners saw an opportunity to profit.”

“I’m sure you’re real choked up about it,” I say.

“I wouldn’t describe it as an emotional reaction per se,” the man replies. “Though I’ll confess a certain indignation about having to come in to clean a mess I warned them about in the beginning. Still, I hope we’ll be able to salvage this situation as best we can.”

“You’d have to be stupid to think I have any interest in helping you.”

“Of course, of course,” the man says pleasantly. “But I’m certain you will be interested in helping yourself.”

I scoff, “What, like if I do what you want, you’ll let me go? Don’t be insulting.”

“No, no. I mean, I could promise you that, and perhaps even mean it, but you would have no reason to believe me.”

“So what exactly are you offering?”

“Not so much an offer as an observation,” he says. “You see, so long as we are talking, you can be sure you can continue living, as well as avoid whatever dreadful fate I’m sure you are imagining.”

I can’t tell if he means that as a threat or not, but he does have a point. Still, I have no desire whatsoever to be helpful. “If you’re going to kill me or worse, we might as well get it over with,” I say.

“I see you are still far too skeptical about our intentions for this to be productive,” the man says. “No matter, there is no rush.” I hear him stand up from a chair and begin to walk away. He stops after a few steps and says, “You aren’t too uncomfortable, I hope?”

I do my best to glare at him from behind my blindfold.

“Yes, I suppose that position can hardly be pleasant, though given your… history, it is unfortunately quite necessary. Still, I’ll see about getting you a cushion.”

And with that, he leaves. I have extreme doubts about any forthcoming cushions, though if one does come I’m half temped to bite whatever bastard brings it to me. In any case, for now I have nothing to do but wait and think.

I spend a fair time on my thoughts, though all I have to show for it is the realization that I’m very thirsty and a bit hungry. I’m interrupted in a daydream about my epic escape attempt, involving me magically gaining the power to rip these shackles clean out of the walls, by the sound of a door sliding open, and then closed a few seconds later.

I don’t hear incoming footsteps, so it’s a shock when a voice suddenly says, “Please don’t bite me,” from a couple feet away. It sounds like a young woman, or perhaps an older teen. Judging by the direction she must have kneeled before speaking.

I sniff at the air, catching a hint of some floral aroma. There’s something else to it, though I can’t place it at all. It’s… it’s almost like… “Are you not human?” I ask.

I suddenly feel one of her hands touch my shoulder. It’s small, maybe around the same size as my own, though she doesn’t have any claws or fur. “I need you lean back on your toes so I can fit this under you.”

When I don’t move right away she presses on my shoulder until I do as she asks. I hear her drag something across the floor, and then she allows me to drop to my knees. There is now a few inches of a soft cushion sitting under me. It’s quite an improvement.

“You must be thirsty,” she says. “Please open your mouth and tilt back your head.”

“What are you doing working for these psychos?” I say. “You know what they do to people like us, right?”

“I am not here to answer your questions,” she says. “Just to tend to your needs.”

I’m stung by how businesslike she sounds, but still, ”Sorry, I’m just totally in the dark here, literally and figuratively, and now you’ve come along and confused me even more.”

She’s silent for a moment, then sighs. “If I answer one of your questions, then will you cooperate?”

I think for a few seconds, shrug, then say, “Fine. What are you? You don’t smell human, but you don’t smell like any of the other demi-humans, except maybe F— except none of them.”

She hums. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?” I snap at her. 

“For the same reason you are wearing a blindfold,” she says. “It’s safer for everyone that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Last Light is a secret, of course, a secret many have died for. Now, open up.”

“But you didn’t answer my question!”

“Yes I did. You asked why I couldn’t answer your other question, and I answered.”

I’m about to object, when I feel her tiny hand, soft and cool, press against my forehead. I frown for a second, but eventually relent. She pours a small amount of water into my mouth, and allows me to swallow before doing it again. This repeats until I’ve drunk my fill.

“Do you want something to eat?” She asks.

Part of me wants to pry for more information, though I’m sure the most I’d get for my trouble is a scolding. That, and also the drink of water made my hunger more acute. I reluctantly nod.

“I thought so,” she says. “I brought a little dried meat with me.” She puts a hand on my cheek this time. “Please be careful when biting down.”

She presses a strip of beef jerky onto my tongue and I bite down and start chewing. Well, I assume it’s beef jerky. It has about as much flavor as an ultra-preserved army bread ration, but with ten times the chewiness. In any case, I’m able to go through five strips of it, drinking a little extra water on the way before we’re finished.

“You must have been really hungry,” she says, sounding pleased. I feel like she’s about to pet my forehead, but instead I hear the door slide open a few seconds later.

“Wait!” I say. “Can you tell me what these people want from me?”

I don’t hear anything, including the door sliding shut, so I assume she’s standing there thinking about it. Eventually, she says, “You will have to ask m— ask the man who talked to you earlier.”

“Can you at least tell me your name?”

After a very long pause, she says in a voice even softer than usual, “Sylvia.” The door slides shut a second later.

I’m left alone again with my thoughts. The vast majority of me is certain the… the strange woman Sylvia was sent in as part of the interrogation process, something to put me off balance and get on my good side. And, I mean, those parts are almost definitely correct, but… I also can’t say it didn’t work, at least a little. In spite of her brisk demeanor, she seemed to be genuinely concerned.

It’s hard for me to rationalize what I’ve seen of these people so far, what I know they’re capable of, with Sylvia or how she treated me. Even the man from earlier doesn’t fit in quite right, though he at least seemed detached and pragmatic enough. My mind starts spinning elaborate plots for them, machiavellian schemes where every word, every gesture is part of their plan.

It’s comforting to think they would put all that effort into me, though deep down I’m certain this is just a bog standard interrogation. I do wish I knew exactly what it was they wanted. Most likely information on Faith, but I don’t know if I want that to be true. Part of me, or rather, I should say, many parts of me, are not certain I should be protecting her. After what she… after what happened, I feel… 

I blow out a hard breath and shake my head. Regardless of how I may feel about her, I feel a hundred times worse about these bastards. Even if it gets me killed, or shipped off to some fucking torture basement, I’d still rather do what little I can to take them down.

It’s not too long before the door slides open and I get an opportunity to test that resolve.

“Ah, Stephen, you’re looking refreshed,” the man says. “Or do you go by something else now?”

I purse my lips. I know I just promised to tell them all to go to hell, but I have so many questions burning in my mind. I can’t shake them, even as Sylvia’s warning echos in my mind. I always had a problem letting things go, even when it was long past time to move on.

“I still go by Steph,” I say at last.

“Oh, that worked out well,” he says. “Now, you must be terribly curious about what happened to you. How would you like, as a gesture of good will, for me to answer some questions for you? Not all of them, of course, there are many things you will be better off not knowing, but perhaps enough to sate your appetite.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Hm, straight to the point. I can respect that, though I’m sure you’ve already guessed. We want to know about the rabbit woman you aided in the assault on this compound.”

“You think I’m going to betray one of my own like that?”

“That is a truly noble sentiment,” he says. It even sounds like he means it. “But you have the wrong idea. You see, that woman is not one of your kind.”

“She was a demi-human too.”

“A reasonable misunderstanding,” the man says. “However, you are operating under a faulty assumption. You believe that the other—what did you call them, demi-humans? As fine a name as any—but your belief that these demi-humans have a kind at all is mistaken.”

“What are you talking about?” I say.

The man hums for a moment. “That’s hard to explain without… giving too much away, so I will instead ask you this, why do you think the rabbit woman had such tremendous strength? Weren’t you suspicious about how lost and confused you all were, except for her?”

He is completely right. Faith did seem different than the others, and not just in terms of her disposition. Even her animalistic traits were less pronounced, not to mention her amazing physical capabilities. Still, I’m trying to stay uncooperative, in spite of my curiosity. “What, like you have a theory or something? You know even less about her than I do.”

“No, no, I don’t have a theory,” the man says. He sounds far too pleased. “I happen to know exactly what she is, and so by extension what you are as well.”

“And that is?”

“A distraction,” he says. He must take a cue from my bewildered face, because he continues, “Or a decoy, a trick, a ruse. You are, in short, something that was created in order to buy time for that woman to operate.”

“Do you mean Fa—“ I cut off just in time. I can’t see his face, but I’m sure he looks very proud of himself. I calm myself and continue, “Are you saying the rabbit woman created us somehow?”

“My, you certainly have a knack for asking the dangerous questions,” he says. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave that one for you to speculate about on your own. I’m just connecting the dots between things you already know, trying to make it clear what side you’re really on.”

I scoff, “Oh, let me guess, we’re both in this together?”

“No, no,” the man says. He almost sounds sad. “The actual truth is that you aren’t on a side at all anymore. Just a man snatched from humanity, denied any chance at a future, as part of some… game.”

“What do you mean?”

“Were you always so perilously curious,” he says. It almost sounds like he’s making a joke. “Or did that come along with all the other feline traits?” He chuckles softly. I’m not sure I appreciate his sense of humor. “I think the best I can do is ask you, ‘How many half cat males have you seen?’”

“Why, did you kill them?” I spit that out harder than I mean to… I can’t say I like the implication that I was supposed to hook up with some cat-girl boy to start a family, but the thought that I had the possibility and it was taken away hurt in a way I did not expect.

“No, they simply never existed at all.”

“I… I don’t understand.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he says. “For now I think all that matters is that this isn’t your fight.”

This… this man is proving surprisingly good at getting under my skin. I… I have no reason to believe what he’s saying about… about being some kind of sacrificial pawn… but… but Faith did… I take a sharp breath, grit my teeth, and shake my head. I can’t let him get to me. He… He has to be wrong.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m sure you tell all the girls that,” I say. I’m usually much better with sarcasm, but recent circumstances have put me off my game.

On the other hand… he hasn’t responded for a good few seconds. Did… did he not get that I was mocking him? I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Finally, and to my relief, he hums, then says, “I believe that’s as far as were going to get. Unfortunately, we’re—“ He’s interrupted by the sound of the door sliding open. Someone walks in with heavy steps.

“Dir—“ the man speaking is suddenly cut off, I assume by my interrogator. The new man sounds the younger of the two by far, maybe something like a Chip?

Chip continues in a tone too soft for me to make out. The older man is about as quiet, although I do hear him say, “discovered,“ “disposal,“ and “never be found” at a few points.

Welp, guess that means I’m dead. Can’t say I’ve had a good life, all things considered, so this is probably for the best. Still… an unshakeable melancholy falls on me.

After a while longer Chip stomps out of the room, and I hear my interrogator rise out of his chair. “It seems you’re in luck,” he says. I can tell he’s walking across the room towards a point off to my side. I assume to something on the wall near me. I hear the clink of a metallic item, and then he says. “You understand the necessity of secrecy, of course.”

“Just do what you have to,” I say.

I feel something jab in my neck, then pass out immediately.

And then I feel… something?

The sensation of it is… well, nothing terribly remarkable, my face is a little itchy, but that I feel it at all is hard for me to accept.

I live with that itchy feeling for… some indeterminate period. I linger in the moment, free from any mark of the passage of time, almost savoring the experience. Eventually, I become aware of other sensations. There is a pressure on the front of my body, uneven, and intermixed with unpleasant jabs of pain.

Breathing is a struggle, but an earthy, wooden aroma slowly permeates my head . Other senses come rushing in, and suddenly my mind puts everything into a coherent picture. I’m sprawled out on the ground outside.

I pop up, and discover I’m lying in the middle of a dense thicket. It’s the dead of night, and the trees are packed so tight that even with my enhanced vision I can’t make out any details. It’s brisk, but I do notice someone has helpfully thrown a coarse blanket over my body.

I also can’t help but notice I seem to be alive. It’s hard to process. Nothing about my last memory suggested that was even a remote possibility. The fact that I seem to be both alive, and free, is entirely beyond my ability to imagine. I could as soon believe the gods themselves plucked me out of danger as anything.

I rotate onto my butt, pulling the blanket over my shoulders for warmth, and then take stock of my situation. A quick check reveals I’m wearing a jump suit. It has been tucked into itself and pinned in place, giving it a reasonable fit. It’s nothing compared to my coverall, but it beats being naked, even if I don’t have anything on underneath.

This must be what I was wearing during my interrogation. I’ve also got a pair of oversized leather gloves on my hands. They fit well enough to stay on without special attention, but they’re hardly comfortable. I don’t have any shoes or socks, but there does seem to be some kind of canvas bag down by my feet.

I grab it and rummage though the contents. There isn’t much. Just a cheap plastic bottle of water, a slip of paper, a pair of sunglasses, and a couple rolls of cloth bandages. Am I supposed to use those on my feet? I take another look around me. All I find is a beret sitting about where my head was. Was I wearing it when I was dumped here?

It’s not the kind of hat I’m familiar with, although I would consider that points in its favor. It is quite soft, with a feminine look. Why did they have this?

Well, whatever, I throw it on. It’s plenty comfortable, and does a fine job covering my ears, and even my lack of ears. It’s not quite as cozy as my old oversized beanie, but it seems to actually be in my size.

I… really have absolutely no idea how to process what’s happening. It almost seems like I just woke up from a bad dream, asides from the lingering chemical scent in my fur and how sore my body is.

Still, as confused as I am, I have no choice but to get up and start looking around. I make one final check, wrap my feet, and then slip underneath a branch and into the wider forest. The light out here is much better, possibly bright enough to see if the slip of paper offers any useful hints.

I pull it out, and hold it under a beam of moonlight. There are only three words on it, “Secrecy is life.”

Uh… okay. Is… is that a warning?

It feels like one, at least. I don’t know how it functions as an explanation. Like, I would be just as good at keeping secrets if I was dead… right?

I sigh. I don’t get it. Part of me suspects this must be some kind of elaborate scheme, where every possible move has been calculated and no matter what I do will play into their villainous plot, like I’m in a James Bond movie or something.

Whatever. I sure hope those jackasses were planning for me to go back to my job with Grant. I was doing perfectly fine keeping my change hidden before they came along… I mean, except where they must have figured it out somehow.

Gah! I’m getting all pensive again. I am entirely too miserable right now to worry about anything outside the present moment. I pull out the water and take a swig. A little voice in my head wonders if it’s poisoned, but I tell it to shut the hell up. I have entirely too many real problems.

The greatest of which is figuring out where the hell I am. The conventional wisdom is that if you find yourself lost in the wilderness, you stay put and wait for rescue. Given that this situation is anything but conventional, I think I’ll go with the unorthodox strategy. That is to say, wander around until I find a land mark.

Although… I look up at one of the nearby trees, and then down at my hands. You know…

I sigh, slip off my gloves and put them on the ground in the bag, then bend over and pull my toe-claws out of the wrappings. I never was a big fan of heights. Hopefully I don’t end up needing to call the fire department.

I find the tallest tree around, then climb to the lowest branch with a running start. From there I clamber to the highest branch, or at least to the point where the tree starts bending more than I’m comfortable with, and look around.

I see a faint glow from the city skyline off in the distance, I’d guess something like twenty or thirty miles away. That’s going to be one hell of a walk. There is also a helicopter circling off to my right, around five miles away. I have a feeling I might want to stay away from there.

I do my best to lock the direction of the city in my mind, and then shimmy down. I pick up my stuff and begin the long journey home.

I use water sparingly, not confident I’ll find a clean source any time soon, and keep my hat off but in hand along with my sunglasses. If I run into anyone I’ll have to quickly conceal my feline attributes.

The going is slow, not at all helped by the soreness in my legs and back. I make it an hour or so before I have to take a break. Past me would be embarrassed to give up so soon, although past me was two feet taller so he can kiss my furry butt. I sit back against a handy pine. I’ve been carrying the blanket with me, although I’m far too warm to wear it. It makes a great cushion at least.

I let out a long breath. I’m… I’m actually pretty tired. My thoughts drift once again to the idea my water’s been poisoned as I slowly slump further into the ground.

I wake with a start. How long was I asleep? The sky’s as dark as ever, so it couldn’t be that long. I hear… something nearby. A voice? Seems like it, although too far away to make out anything about them. Who could it be?

I gather up my things, packing the blanket in spite of the chill that’s settled over me. I have a feeling I might need to book it in a hurry and that I won’t want to leave anything behind if I do. Part of me wants to investigate who it is, but only the part of me that hasn’t been paying attention this last… day? Has it really only been that long?

Well, whatever, curiosity is bound to cause more trouble, so I continue in the direction of the city, trying to keep my distance from the approaching sound. Unfortunately, it’s not a single person, but rather a whole line of them. Are they canvasing the forest?

It… it seems very unlikely they’re looking for me… but I’m also not certain why else they’d be out here.

This is very confusing. Something must have happened, which I suppose might also explain why I was left alive. Maybe they just didn’t want to deal with trying to hide my body?

I don’t know, it doesn’t seem very… you know… on brand.

Problems for later. What matters to me right now is that I’m about to be overtaken. I don’t think I want to deal with… whoever this is. I guess they might be with the police? In any case, I’d rather not be seen.

Running away doesn’t seem like it will work, especially not if I want to stay on track towards the city. I could try mounting a tree. I’m sure they aren’t checking the area above them very thoroughly. I suppose I could also try sneaking past them. The line isn’t particularly dense so it might be possible. It sounds riskier, but it also means I won’t have to try to climbing with this bag. With the blanket inside it’s too heavy to hold in my teeth, and the closest is has to a strap is the drawstring.

I think I’ll try my hand at slipping by. Worst case scenario I can pop on my beret and sunglasses and pretend to be a lost hiker… A lost hiker wearing an oversized jumpsuit with cloth bandages for shoes…

Okay, I’m having second thoughts, but I also don’t want to risk falling out of a tree. Then I’d be both discovered and dead, the worst of all possible outcomes.

I pick a place where the line seems particularly thin, and then head towards it. As I approach it becomes clear this is a search effort. I can hear some chatter, although the people are mostly focused on scanning the area. Thanks to my superior senses and lightness of foot, I’m able to get close enough to see them without being detected.

They are being thorough, but it’s clear this isn’t an effort to find someone trying to stay hidden. The arcs of their flashlights swing wide and slow, covering most of the ground between them, but leaving ample time for a sufficiently sneaky cat-girl, such as myself, to slip though unnoticed.

I do feel a little bad that all these people’s efforts will go to waste but I—

I…

Do I… smell what I think I’m smelling?

I double back a few paces, sniffing the air as I go. It takes some trying, but eventually I’m able to figure out the direction it’s coming from. I… I seem to be downwind of…

I shake my head. There’s no way… but still… I have to check.

I continue on, making sure to stay far enough back that no one will notice me. After about a mile of travel the scent is unmistakeable. It has to be her perfume. But… what the hell is she doing out here?

I creep ever closer, until at last I see her. Is it… is it really? I almost blurt out her name, but at the last second I remember I have my ears out. I throw on my beret and sunglasses, then finally say, “Tracy?”

The woman turns my way, and before I can so much as wave, she yells,“Steph!” And sprints after me, She trips and stumbles twice in the short distance between us, but manages to stay on her feet long enough to slam into me. She crushes my head into her chest, and I can feel a line of tears splashing onto my neck.

I try to say something, but for some reason I’m unable to form complete sentences. Instead I just return the grip. I can feel my own eyes start gushing, as a tremendous wave of emotions breaks free. I… I didn’t realize how tense I was…

By the time I’ve recovered some awareness of my surroundings, I’m being led down through the forest to the police base camp by a uniformed officer. I’m walking in a small crowd of people, although most of them maintain a respectable distance.

Tracy and I are walking as close together as we can manage without tripping ourselves. We’ve mostly calmed down, although we’re too emotionally charged to speak. Tracy seems to have a hard time looking at me, although that doesn’t stop her from glancing down every few seconds.

About halfway down we’re joined by another officer. He gives me a hard look I’m not a fan of, but doesn’t otherwise say anything. I notice a smokey scent coming off of his clothes.

When we arrive at the camp he offers to take us the rest of the way in, and has the other officer clear the herd gathered behind us. It’s nice to get rid of the gawkers. We’re brought into a large tent, where I’m shocked to see Grant standing next to a man in a well decorated suit, I suppose a high ranking policeman.

“Grant!” I drag Tracy with me as I run into his arms. I manage to avoid collapsing into another emotional heap, but I do cling to him for a very long time. He’s also got a strong scent of smoke on him.

Eventually, I consent to be pried off of Grant and Tracy, and I’m sat down in a chair to answer a few questions about what happened. Grant offer’s me a neck gaiter, which I slip over my mouth, before starting the conversation with the Police Captain. Tracy’s forced to wait outside, but Grant apparently has enough sway to be allowed to stay.

It seems there’s a lot of things I don’t know about my boss.

The Captain is very gentle in his interrogation, and is satisfied with the very limited amount of information I have to offer. I get the feeling they didn’t expect me to know much anyway. I tell them I managed to escape during some kind of violent conflict between the men who took me and an unknown party. When they ask about any other captives, I tell them I was kept alone in a room, and didn’t see any living soul after I wiggled out of my bindings and ran into the forest.

My story seems to satisfy the Captain, who releases me to Grant’s custody. The three of us, Grant, Tracy, and I, walk the short distance to a nearby road, and pile into his giant truck.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Grant says as he pulls onto the street. We start lumbering down the road back to the city.

I nod, then ask, “But, what’s going on? How did you even know to come looking for me?”

Grant is silent for a moment, then says, “That’s a pretty involved story, and I think it can wait. For now, let’s just focus on getting you home, alright?”

I nod, and we settle into silence. Tracy is sitting on the far right of the huge bench seat, gazing out the window with a melancholy stare. She seems afraid to acknowledge me, although I can’t guess why. I decide to leave her be, and rest my eyes.

I come to a short time later, and find I’m slumped into Grant’s side. He’s pleasantly warm, but I right myself and look around. We’ve only just made it into the city, so I didn’t doze long.

Grant glances down at me, hums, then says, “Sorry if this is a bit too personal, but… well, given what happened to you, would you like to stay at our house? At least for a few days, anyway. We have a guest room, so it’s not like you’d be any bother.”

I look up at him, feeling a little moisture glisten in my eye. “Y-yeah.” I nod. “I… I think I’d like that.”

He smiles down at me. “Glad to hear it.”


	3. Part 3

I feel the snug weight of the blanket pressing down on me as I slowly drift out of sleep.I feel so warm and cozy and… and safe, that I wish I could snuggle under these covers forever.

Well, okay, not forever forever, but at least until every last bit of sleepiness clears from my head.Unfortunately, I’ve never been a great sleeper, and once I wake up I’m stuck that way for the next twelve to twenty hours.

I did have a brief window, after I was transformed into a cat-girl more than five weeks ago, where my enhanced cat-like sleep schedule allowed me to nap whenever I felt like it.It was pretty great, all things considered, but apparently doesn’t work in a miasma of terrible anxiety.Go figure.

Still, a few more minutes in bed wouldn’t hurt.I scrunch up a few more layers of blanket and bury my head further under the pillows.

mmm… toasty…

I hear the front door shut down stairs, and a jolt in my heart wipes away every last trace of grogginess.

I… I’m sure it’s just Tracy or Grant, in fact, I know it is, but…

I wiggle myself out of my cocoon of warmth.I don’t like indulging paranoia, even when it’s well justified, but it isn’t unhealthy to seek reassurances about safety.I mean, probably, I’m hardly a doctor.I suppose you can do too much of anything.

Whatever.I poke my head out the door, just in time to see Tracy step into her room.It must be around six.I’m still on my work schedule as far as sleep is concerned even though, understandably, I haven’t been back since… since the incident.

I feel a tremor of agitation in my body, fur pressing against the oversized shirt I wear as a nightgown.Sweat beads on my forehead as I take a few seconds to slowly work through a few deep breaths.

This… is really annoying.I… I handled everything too well to feel like this.Or at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself.I look down at my hand.I can still picture the blood soaked fur, the rivulets running thick and red down my palms.For a moment I can even smell the pungent iron, taste it on my lips.

A wave of nausea hits, and I lean into the doorframe while it passes.

Maybe… maybe I should think of something else.I look at Tracy’s door.

She’s… she’s been a bit… distant since I got back.I… I mean, maybe she’s been busy, or something.It’s not… not like…I shake my head.

I think I’ll go say hi.I walk over to her door, though before knocking I listen to make sure I won’t disturb anything.I can’t hear so much as a creaky spring.Is she asleep?It seems unlikely…

I decide to risk it, and gently rap on her door.“H-hey Tracy.Do… do you mind if I come in?”

After a few seconds of silence I’m ready to assume she actually did fall asleep, when she finally says, “If you want.”

I find her sitting at her desk.A half finished blouse lays on top, like she pulled it out to start working but gave up before adding a single stitch.She’s looking away, hands resting gently in her lap.I take a seat next to her and she remains motionless.

We spend a few minutes sitting like this.I feel an undercurrent of tension in the room.Am I… am I making her uncomfortable?

“So,” I say.“How… how have you been?”

This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as she turns further away from me.I see a tear run down the side of her face.

“Are you okay?” I blurt out.

That makes it worse.She tries to step out of her chair, but just ends up slumping to her knees.

I quickly step to her side and kneel behind her.She’s trembling, arms wrapped around her waist.“What’s wrong?”I say.“Please, tell me.”

She sobs, and then cries out, “It’s my fault!Because I… because… you were…”

I put a hand on her back.She flinches, but doesn’t otherwise recoil so I leave it there.“What do you mean?”

“The pictures…It’s because…”She shakes her head.“You didn’t want, but I… I pushed…”A river of tears splashes off her skirt, tumbling to the floor.

Oh… she’s feeling guilty.I… should have recognized…I pull her into my arms.She resists at first, but then, as if against her better judgement, suddenly crushes into me.“It’s not your fault,” I say.“I mean, you didn’t post them anywhere, right?”

She shakes her head.“Just… backups.”

I continue, “We don’t even know how the Last Light found me.They have a great deal of resources, after all.So please, don’t go tearing yourself apart on their account.”

I get something like an affirmative squeeze from her and she settles into me.We spend a few minutes sitting like that.Part of me is tempted to lie down and pull her on top, but I resist, as much as I could use a good cuddle.

She eventually pries herself off of my lap and straightens up.I let my hands slide off her back and into her lap, where she takes them into her own.She still looks depressed, but she is at least meeting my eyes again.

“I-I’m sorry,” she says.“Y… you were the one who…”She looks down.“And here I am, making you worry about me.”

“It’s okay,” I say.“It’s not your fault.I don’t want you to feel guilty.And I— I don’t… don’t want you to”—I turn aside and finish almost under my breath—“to be so distant.”

“You mean literally?” she has a somberly playful tone.I’m sure she’s joking, but I nod anyway.After a pause, she hums, and then says, “O-oh… in that case.”She flips her legs out in front of her and scoots forward until we’re almost side to side, then pulls me down into her chest, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and resting her cheek on top of my head.

This… this is a lot better than curling up alone under my blankets.

She starts gently petting around my ears, soft enough so I only purr a little with each breath.“I— I’m sorry, for what happened to you.I’m sure you— whatever they did…”She shakes her head.“I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it, but, if you do need, I mean, just to talk about anything… I’m here.”

“Th-thanks,” I say.I take a breath to speak, but find the words won’t start past my lips.Tracy, seems to sense it, as she stops petting and holds still, like she’s trying not to startle a wild animal.Eventually I’m able to slip out, a few syllables at a time, “But, it’s not what you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I know what story the police have, that those people were some kind of human traffickers, and… that might very well be true, from a certain perspective, but… I… didn’t exactly… have that kind of experience, you could say.”I trail off into silence.

Tracy doesn’t say anything, just resumes stroking the back of my head.I can tell she’s waiting for me to continue, if I want to.

Eventually, I go on.“According to the investigation, an unknown rival gang attacked their facility, armed with sledge hammers and knives, and killed all those people, but… actually… it was… I was… one of them.I mean, not a gang, but, after they took me…”

“You fought your way out?”Tracy asks.I catch a tinge of confusion in her voice, as she struggles to reconcile that idea with what she knows.

“Not exactly,” I say reluctantly.“I was helping someone.”

“Someone?”

“Yeah, but, I can’t elaborate.When I… uh, left, it was with the understanding that I would keep things to myself.”

“Like, between you and the Last Light?”Tracy says.When I tense up she quickly adds, “You said that name a little bit ago.”

Oh yeah.I frown.I never was very good at keeping secrets.“I didn’t mean to mention them.” I say.“You should probably forget I did.”

“We don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to.”

“I barely know anything about them, and what little I do know is too crazy to believe.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, apparently I got involved in something totally insane.”I can’t help a small laugh.

Tracy laughs a bit too.“That’s hard to believe.”

We chuckle together.When we settle, I say, “Thanks.For this, I mean, for being here.”

She gives me an extra squeeze.“You don’t need to thank me.This is literally a dream come true for me,” she says, then quickly adds, “I-I mean, a c-cat-girl friend, ah, girl, cat-girl, who is a friend.”I peek up at her.She’s looking towards the ceiling, flushed red.“N-not this, exact scenario.”

She’s so cute right now that I’m very tempted to tease her, but I resist.Instead I press against her until she settles.A silly part of me fancies we can stay like this forever, so I’m a little disappointed when I hear someone knocking downstairs.

“I… I should probably get that,” Tracy says.

“Especially since I’m not wearing any pants,” I say.Tracy looks down at my bare legs, and then darts her eyes back up to the ceiling.She tries to stammer something out, but doesn’t succeed in the time in takes me to roll back onto my feet.“I better get dressed.”

“Y-yeah,” Tracy says.I help her stand up.“J-just to be s-safe.”

I scurry back into my room to grab a few things.By the time I’m slipping on a fresh pair of pants I hear the door open downstairs, and then shortly thereafter slam shut.Almost too shortly.I throw on the rest of my things, give myself a once over in the mirror, then tiptoe to the top of the stairs.

I see a second pair of legs in addition to Tracy’s.Blue jeans and tennis shoes to contrast with Tracy’s black sweatpants and bare feet.The two are standing face to face, with very little distance in between them.There is also a familiar scent.Is that…

I skip down the stairs, to find a woman with sunglasses and an oversized baseball cap looking at me.She has a bag over her shoulder.Tracy appears to have just finished giving her a hug.

“Belle?” I say.

“Steph!” The fox woman says.She almost bowls me to the floor as she wraps her arms around me. “Thank God you’re alright!I was so worried after— and when Faith— and I—”

“Slow down, slow down,” I push Belle away.She squats down to match my height.“What’s going on? Why don’t you start from the beginning, and what was that about Faith?”

“Right, okay,” Bell says.

“Let’s take a seat,” Tracy says, ushering us both to a couch in the living room.“I’ll get some refreshments while you catch up.”We nod and sit down while Tracy heads into the kitchen.

“So what happened after I left?” I ask.“Did you have any problems getting away.”

“Not too many,” Belle says.“A few men chased us, and we got a bit scattered, but it turns out Gary has a natural talent for tracking.”

“Ah good.How’s he doing?”

“Fair enough, though he’s still uncomfortable with this whole thing, but the other’s have taken a shine to him so I think he’ll come to terms with it eventually.”

“And the rest of you?”

“We’re doing… well, actually, all things considered,” Belle says with a head bob.“Much better than I expected, certainly.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, we have a place to stay, some food, some money, stuff like that.”

“Where’d you get all that?”

“Ah, some time after we escaped, after I’d managed to get us gathered together, we were all, well, just kind of huddled together in the forest.We didn’t even have enough clothes for everyone, just what we scrounged off the guards, and”—she suddenly stops and her eyes light up.“Oh yeah!Before I forget.”She pulls a few things out of her bag, producing my coverall, boots, and beanie and hands them to me.

“Ah!My hat!”I grab the beanie—setting the other things aside—and give it a hug.I’ve had it even longer than my old boots, so I got a little sentimental about it.“I thought I’d lost it for sure.”

“A little mousy mouse girl, Sofia, picked them up during the escape,” Belle says.“They were big on her, but, you know, beats being naked.”

“Make sure to thank her for me.”I smile.“And you were saying?”

“Right, yes.So there we were, miserable, cold, with no idea what we could do.None of us are from the city, no IDs, no money, no way to establish that we are who we say we are—“

“Even the women?I ask.“I mean, the women who were already women, uh, like you?Did your face change?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Belle says.“I used to look completely different, even though I’m around the same size, uh, or, the same height, at least.”

“You mean…?”

“I, um, used to be… well, a lot overweight, you could say.”Belle shrugs.“Most of us were.Everyone lost about a hundred pounds in the transformation.It makes sense, you know, like, the energy had to come from somewhere, right?”

I nod.I hadn’t thought about it, but looking back I realize that I didn’t see any other demi-humans my size.I muse on it for a moment, but after a split second snap out, “Ah, sorry, I interrupted you again.”

“No no, it’s okay, curiosity is very on brand.”She giggles.“But anyway, we were hopeless, when all of the sudden Faith shows up.”

“H-how was she?”

“Honestly, she looked like shit,” Belle says.“I was sure she’d need help, but it turns out it was rather the opposite.She had something like a base of operations nearby and wanted us to have it.”

“Wait, really?”I blurt out.

“Well, more of a cabin, and not exactly that near by.It took a lot of sneaking to get there, but it had food, clothes, and space enough for all of us to sleep, on the floor at least.”

“S-so… is Faith, still with you?”

“No, after we got to the cabin, she grabbed some things and left.”She shrugs.

“What have you been up to since then?” I ask.

“You should tell him what you did right away, first,” Tracy says with a grin.She just walked in from the kitchen with a full tray, which she places down on the coffee table before taking a seat.I grab a glass of water and a little pile of meat and cheese.

“Ah, yeah.”Belle looks embarrassed.“Faith told us what happened to you.That you were captured.I wanted to run back there to rescue you, but…” she shrugs helplessly.“Wouldn’t have helped.Faith didn’t have any suggestions, in fact she barely seemed interested in anything at all.After we got to the cabin I thought of calling the police, but there was no way they were going to listen to me.”

“What did you do?”I say.

“Well, we were, you know, able to figure out where you worked, from your uniform, so, I, uh… called your boss.”

“What?Why?”

“I-I didn’t know where to turn,” Belle says.“And I thought, like, you had a job, so maybe he was someone you were close with.I didn’t really imagine he could do anything, but maybe he could establish you were missing and get the police involved that way.”

“Luckily for you,” Tracy says.“It turns out my dad used to be a detective on the force, and he still has a few connections.”

“Oh, that explains why he was with the Police Captain,” I say.

“Or, well,” Tracy frowns.“Maybe it didn’t matter?I mean, you said they let you go, or something, right?”

“They did?” Belle exclaims.

“No, it’s not quite that they let me go,” I say.“I’m not even a hundred percent sure what happened.I thought for sure they were going to kill me, but I ended up dumped out in the forest somewhere.”

“Why?”

“I can’t…” I shrug.“I mean, I don’t know if we should be talking about it.”

“You think if you stay quiet the Last Light won’t come after you later?” Belle snaps.

“You know about them?”

“Yeah, Faith told us,” Belle says.I’m about to warn her against saying more, when she cuts me off with, “And before you say it, I already told Mr. Walker everything Faith told me.”

“Not over the phone, I hope.”

“Ah, nah, I told Mr. Walker that I knew about your ‘condition’ and that you were in danger and he had us meet at his office.Thankfully Faith left us a car,” Belle says.

I look down with a frown.That does explain why Grant hasn’t pushed for any details.He already knows almost everything I could tell him.Still… “I’m not sure that was the best idea.”

“Why, did you make a deal with them?” Belle asks.

“No, nothing like that.”I hum.If Belle and Grant already know about the Last Light, and probably even more than I do, it won’t hurt for me to speculate.“Like I said, I thought they were going to kill me, but if I had to guess, when they found out the police were on the way they decided I could do a better job hiding my body than they could.”

Belle’s face grows dark, and she says, “That doesn’t sound like them at all.”

“I think someone else took over after Faith’s attack,” I say.“Someone different.”

“Different?” Tracy says.

“Yeah, it’s hard to describe.He seemed… well, like a true believer?I can’t say for certain in what.”

“Faith said they were a human supremacist cult,” Belle says.“Or maybe a secret society.She wasn’t clear.”

“The man I talked to said they were in some kind of war,” I say.

“A war?” Tracy says.“With who?Cat-girls?”

I frown.This conversation is bringing back memories about my mysterious interrogator.Some of the things he said still make me uncomfortable.“It sounds nuts, but he said it was a war with god.”

Tracy and Belle both hem.Eventually Belle says, “With god?”

“Yeah, he also said… well, that you and I and the other demi-humans were just… bait.”

“Bait?”Belle exclaims.

“Or a distraction, decoys, something like that,” I say.“Just a tool of Faith’s.”

“What!You mean Faith made us or something?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I shake my head.“At least, the man I talked to didn’t say one way or another.”

“It’s bullshit,” Belle says.“Something to throw you off, turn you against Faith.”

“Yeah… probably,” I say.I’m about to ask Belle if she’s seen any male demi-humans, when I hear a truck pull up.It’s probably Grant coming home, but to be on the safe side I throw my beanie on.Belle does the same with her own hat.

I hear someone come in from the garage a few moments later.I feel an undercurrent of anxiety, and part of me wishes I still had my gun.When Grant appears from around the wall I let out the breath I’d been holding.I hear Belle do so as well.

“Ah, Belle,” Grant says.“Sorry I’m late, Captain Bloodworth dropped by to share a few things about the case.”

“Any developments?”Belle asks.

“The organized crime division is taking over, although it looks like they are just charging forward against Patrick Ruzsa and his men.”

“Who?” I say.

“The man who confessed to running the operation,” Grant explains.“He has some connections with Russian criminal organizations, so locking him up will look like a big win.”

“But they weren’t just criminals,” Belle says.“And Faith said that was a small part of their organization.”

“I know, but without hard evidence the Captain doesn’t have anything to work with.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Belle says.She pulls something from her bag.“So imagine how pleased I was when this”—she hands Grant a large envelope—“was deliver earlier today.”

Grant pulls out a stack of papers and starts looking through them.“Oh my god… this is—“

“A complete list of every woman they sold and who they sold them too,” Belle says, sounding very pleased.She looks to me and adds, “See, I told you what he said was bullshit.”

“What _who_ said?”Grant asks.He, and the others turn to look at me.

“Ah… I, uh, wasn’t going to talk about this,” I say.“But I guess it doesn’t matter.”

I go ahead and explain everything that happened to me from when I was attacked outside the museum to when I was reunited with Tracy, although I gloss over the gory details.They are especially intrigued by Sylvia, although the best I’m able to say is I think she was some kind of demi-human.Grant has quite a few questions about my mysterious interrogator, but unfortunately I have hardly any answers.

When I finish my story, Grant asks, “What happened to that paper slip?”

“O-oh, yeah.”I frown and hum.What did happen with that?“You know, I think I left it in the bag with the blanket, though I couldn’t tell you what happened to that either.”

“I think one of the officers took it from you outside the tent,” Tracy says.“He said he was collecting it for evidence.”

“Then the police must have it,” I say, looking at Grant.

He shrugs.“I wouldn’t know, I’m not really part of the investigation, but it could be a connection to that man.”

“Is there a chance you left it in a pocket?”Tracy asks.“If so then it might have ended up somewhere in this house.”

“No, I don’t think so.I’m not sure the jumpsuit even had pockets, though it’s with the police too so I can’t check.I still think we should have washed it.What are they going to think about the cat-hair?”

Grant laughs.“I’m sure forensics will be terribly confused, although with the case going as it is they probably won’t get around to processing it.”

“That list must have been what Faith was printing,” Belle says.“Wh-when she, you know…”

“Left me behind,” I say.

“Y-yeah.”She looks down.“I guess that explains why she looked so miserable.”

“Still,” Tracy says.“Because of you there’s a chance we can save those people.”

Grant looks at the stack of papers in his hand, and softly says, “Maybe.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a lot of very big names in here,” Grant says.“And some of them with major political connections.It won’t be easy to get a judge on board for a warrant, and it might be dangerous to try.”We all give him an alarmed look, so he elaborates, “Only down to the fourth page and apparently the director of the CIA is a customer.”

“What!”Several voices yell at once, possibly including my own.Grant looks back with foreboding.It seems we’ve gotten involved in a big problem.

While I’m staring at Grant, something catches my eye.“Hey, what’s that?” I say.I lean over the couch to pull something peeking out from the stack of papers.It’s a plain white envelope.“It’s addressed to you, Belle.”

She takes the envelope, looking it over like it could burst into flames at any moment.After a few seconds, she pops it open and pulls out the contents, a single sheet folded into thirds.She slides it flat and gives it a quick scan.“It’s from Faith,” she says.

“What’s it say?”I ask.

Belle reads a few lines, then suddenly goes white in the face.

“What’s wrong?” Tracy asks.

Belle shakes her head in a daze.“I.. I… we really are…”

I take the letter from her, and start to read through it.“Oh, I see.”Tracy give’s me a confused look.“In here Faith admits the demi-humans are something she calls ‘false progenitors’ and were created to distract the Last Light.”

“A false progenitor?”Tracy says.

I think back to what my interrogator mentioned, about cat-girl boys, and I realize what he was implying.“I’m not sure, but I think it means we’re all, well, basically sterile, so I suppose by extension Faith must not be.”

No one speaks for a while.Grant has taken a seat near Tracy, and the two of them have contemplative looks.Belle is still out of it, and I’d guess she’s feeling about as betrayed by Faith as I did.I read a few more lines and things start to click.

“Oh… I think I understand what’s going on,” I say.The others glance over.“She’s a new species.Faith, I mean.She says around ten years ago there was another progenitor, but the Last Light hunted her down and killed her, so then… does that mean…”I ponder it for a few seconds, rereading the first paragraph.“That must be it.”

“What are you talking about?”Tracy asks.

“The Last Light,” I say.“They’re trying to stop new species from competing with humanity, and so their war must be with this goddess Faith mentions, the one apparently responsible for making us.”

“A goddess?”Grant asks.“Who is she supposed to be and what’s her part in all this.”

“I’m not sure, Faith doesn’t elaborate, she just apologizes for what happened to us.As for the goddess, maybe she’s tipping the scales in Faith’s favor.” I shrug.“I mean, the first woman was all alone against a globe spanning cult.”

“Was that all she said?” Tracy asks.I shake my head, and continue reading.

“Oh…”I pull my legs onto the couch and rest my chin on my knees.I interrupt Tracy by handing her the letter.I spend the time thinking things over while she and Grant read it.

“Wait,” Tracy says when they’re done.“Does… does she mean, she’s going in there alone?”

“That’s what it looks like,” I say.

“Going where?” Belle asks.Her eyes are sombre, though I notice a flash of anger.

“To the Last Light headquarters,” I answer.“Somewhere in Switzerland.She gave us the coordinates, and says there’s a picture too.”Grant and Tracy start fishing through the papers and envelopes, until Tracy pulls something out of the big package everything was delivered in.She looks at it, then hands it to me.

“Somewhere in the mountains,” Grant says.

I study the photo for a second, then say.“Yeah, with no roads in or out.”

“That place looks huge,” Tracy says.“There’s no way she can take it out on her own.”

“Like we’re supposed to help her,” Belle says.“Sacrifice even more… just so she… she can have a future.”She starts crying.Tracy and I take up a spot on either side of her to gently pat her back.“M-my life… I… even if it w-was kind of… even it it sucked…” She shakes her head and grits her teeth.“It was mine!Some stupid goddess and her pet monster don’t just get to… to take it away from me.”

I pull off her cap and pet behind her ears.She leans into my hand and closes her eyes, but continues crying with shuddering breaths.“It’s okay Belle,” I say.She shakes her head.“It is, and I’m sure we can find a way to get you back home, back into your old life.”

“Do you mean that?” She says.

“I’ll do my best,” I say.“And if we can’t, then I’ll be here with you, all of us demi-humans will be here, to make ourselves new lives together.”

“I’m sure my dad can help too,” Tracy says.

Grant makes a reluctant expression, but says, “I’ll do what I can, at least.”

Tracy laughs and looks at him.“You know you can’t help looking out for hard cases.”Grant smiles back at her.

“See?” I say.“It’s gonna be okay.We’re not going to let some psycho cult or dumb goddess ruin out lives, alright?”

Belle looks at me, and I fix her with by best optimistic smile, giving her an extra scritch behind the ear for good measure.She smiles weakly in return.

“What are we going to do about Faith, though?”Tracy asks.

“I’m not sure what we can do.” Grant sighs.“I can take these papers to Captain Bloodworth tomorrow, see if he can come up with a plan, though I might need to introduce one of you animal folk so he knows it’s legit.”

“I-I can do it,” Belle says.“I want to save those women as fast as possible.”

“We’re have to be very careful,” Grant says.“If someone on this list finds out what we’re up to… well, it won’t be good.”

We share a quiet moment. He’s definitely right.If things go wrong, even the best case scenario might end with them all dead.

Tracy hoists herself to her feet.“I think it’s about time for us to take a break from all this heavy stuff.Belle, how would you like to join us for dinner?”

The fox woman nods, and takes Tracy’s offered hand to get to her feet.We spend the rest of the evening on lighter fares, and then part ways with plans for Belle to meet with Grant and the Captain at his office tomorrow.

I spend the night resting lightly, sleeping a little and thinking a lot.Some… some old things weigh on my mind.Things I’d put behind me for good, or so I thought.The interrogator said I’d been well chosen, and part of me wonders if he might be more right than he knew.

Shortly after dawn I catch Grant before he heads out.“I’m going to visit my apartment today.“

“Oh, do you need a ride?”He asks.

“Just to the metro, if you don’t mind.I only need to pick up a few things, and I can take a cab back when I’m done.”

He studies me a few seconds, then says, “Well, okay.Stay safe.”He smiles.“I don’t know if my heart could take it if something happened to you again.”

“I will.”Without thinking I give him a quick hug.He seems surprised, but pleased, to get it, then we load into the truck and head out.

I reach my apartment about an hour later, half expecting to see the door kicked down and my stuff pilfered or rummaged though, but the inside is exactly as I left it.I dig my laptop out of a bag buried in my closet, and set it on a small folding table.

The old computer boots up with a bit of noise.I should probably blow the dust out, but that’s problems for… well, I guess it might end up being a problem for never, actually.

In any case, I make it to the desktop without trouble, punching in my thirty digit password quickly in spite of not logging in in years.Nothing but bad memories anyway.I’m not sure why I kept it, although it might be worth it after all.

From a certain perspective.

No part of me is certain what I’m doing it the right thing, and I’m not sure I want to do it at all.Faith isn’t anyone to me, and what goodwill she made helping me break out was spent on leaving me behind.Even if she said making us sacrificial decoys was done by the goddess without her knowledge, and continued against her will, I have no reason to believe her.

If she wants to go after the Last Light on her own, I can’t say that’s my problem…Not that that’s ever stopped me before, for all the good it does.

And they did say they wanted her alive…

I sigh and shake my head.I would never know peace if I… tried to let this go.

I dig though folders on my computer until I get to the one containing my records from… from when I was a guy driving a truck.Buried in these old files is a note from someone… who judging by the grinding of my teeth right now I still hate.I don’t even know if the contact I have for him is valid.

Nevertheless, this is the only chance I have to help her, so I have to try.I find his name and address, then do an hour of research.I’m torn on if I’d rather find that he died or not.It seems I’m in luck, theoretically, as he went on to start a private security company like he planned.

Let’s see how serious he was about that favor.

I open my email client, and start typing.

Colonel Denton,

This is Stephen Alexander.

I’m calling in that favor.Can you meet in person?

This is an urgent matter.

It’s not much of a message, but I’m not sure what else I can put in there without giving too much away.I don’t know how the Last Light found me, so I don’t want to risk drawing their attention.Plus, if I told him I’d been turned into a cat-girl he would dismiss the message out of hand, or at least think I’d gone mad.

Anyway, I send it off and sit back.I have no idea how long it will take to get to the Colonel, assuming the message reaches him at all, but I want to get back to him as soon as possible if it does.Still, staring at my laptop for what could be hours sounds dreadfully boring.

I look at my TV and consoles.I haven’t been back to my apartment yet, so I’m going through game withdrawals.I haven’t beat that damn RPG yet, and I can’t say there’s a better time than the present to work on it.

I set my laptop somewhere I can keep on it, then fire up my entertainment center.I make it halfway through the next boss fight before I get a message.Part of me is annoyed he replied so quickly.Still, this is an urgent matter, so I pause the game and check.

Hi Steph,

It’s been a long time, but I’m very glad to hear from you.

You can just call me Elric, please.

As for the favor, where are you?I’ll meet you there as soon as possible.

That’s a good sign, for better or worse.I send him the address of Grant’s office, although I direct him to an unused suite on the top floor.He gets back a few minutes later, saying he can meet there tomorrow at two pm.He gives me a phone number so I can text him if needed.I reply with a confirmation for good measure, then close my laptop.

Before I return to my game, I ask Grant if he wouldn’t mind being at work around that time, and if I can borrow Faith’s letter and the photo of the Last Light base.He seems confused, but nevertheless agrees to it, and that’s that.I can think of nothing else to do but wait.

I spend a few hours in my apartment, mostly playing some game within a game side-quest that might be responsible for my hundred hour playtime, then pack everything up and return to Grant’s.I mill about by myself until Tracy returns, and then we hangout until her father joins us.

He doesn’t have a lot to report about the meeting between him, Captain Bloodworth, and Belle, although the Captain was at least convinced something has to be done.Given how extensive the Last Light’s operation and influence seems to be, they are going to play things very carefully.Grant politely fails to ask me what I was up to today, and why I need a copy of Faith’s letter, though I can sense his curiosity.

After an uneventful evening, and another restless night, it’s time to meet the Colonel.I get a ride from Grant to the office and then wait in my chosen suite.I shutter the windows, and spend the remaining time fidgeting in a chair.I’m going back or forth about whether or not to go through with this for the thousandth time when I hear the door swing open behind me.

I have my hat on, so it came as a surprise and I spin faster than I mean to.I find the surprised visage of one Colonel Denton, or I suppose just Elric.He’s tall, with dark brown hair, even darker brown eyes, and the kind of body you get from staying very active in spite of your advanced years.The only thing showing his age is the streak of grey hair at his temples.

The Colonel gives me a hard look, then says, “I didn’t know Steph had a daughter.”

I motion to the chair beside me and say, “Take a seat.”

His eyes flash in alarm, but he nonetheless walks over to the offered place and sits down.“What’s this all about?”

“It’ll be easier to show than tell,” I say.“But try not to freak out.For starters, I’m not Steph’s daughter”—I pull off my hat and sunglasses—“but rather I’m Stephen himself, uh, or herself, I suppose.”

The Colonel jumps in his char, but otherwise remains seated.His hand did, however, drop to a spot on his waist, where I assume he’s carrying a gun.“What the hell?”

I take a few minutes explaining my transformation, but don’t go into the Last Light stuff just yet.He’s clearly skeptical, so I move closer to give him a better look at my ears, eyes, and teeth.“And if that’s not enough for you,” I say, removing a glove and offering my hand.“You’re welcome to check the claws to see if this is some kind of costume.

It takes almost a minute for him to respond, which he does by grabbing my hand.He then spends an uncomfortably long time poking and prodding at my fingers.Thankfully contact there feels different from around my ears, so I avoid an embarrassing purr.Not that I’m certain I would anyway, given my foul mood.

“Is it… is it really you Steph?” The Colonel says.

“If you don’t believe me, I could remind you that it was _your_ men, and so what happened was _your_ responsibility, including”—my voice darkens—“what happened to me afterwards.”

“It is you then.”He gives me a remorseful look.“I… I am sorry about… about that.My mistake cost you so much, and I couldn’t even do anything for you later.I… I’m sure it won’t make you feel any better, but I gave up my commission not long after you were discharged.”

“I saw that when I looked you up yesterday,” I say.“And that you started an international private security firm like you talked about.That’s why I contacted you.”

“Are you in some kind of danger?” Elric asks.

“Yes, probably, but that’s not what I meant.”I spend the next half hour explaining what the Last Light is and what they’ve been up to, including the part where they kidnapped me, as well as about Faith and her letter.Then I tell him what my plan is.

“Thats… that’s a big ask,” he says.“When I told you to contact me if you needed anything I expected something like a character reference, or maybe you’d ask for a job.Flying you to the secret base of some cult in Switzerland is… well, it’s a bit nuts, to be honest.”

“So you aren’t going to do it?” I say. I can’t tell if I’m angry or relieved.

“I didn’t say that.”The Colonel smiles.“From what you’re telling me these Last Light guys are major jackasses, so if you need my help against them I’m happy to give it.”

“You will?”I blurt out.Now I’m caught between relief and fear.I’m not sure it’s an improvement.

“Yes, of course, though I’ll need a few days to prepare.”

“Please try to hurry as much as possible.I’m worried Faith is doing something dangerous, and I don’t know what kind of trouble she might be in.”

“I’ll do what I can.Thankfully, my company has an office in Zurich so I have systems in place to move personnel into the country.We might have to get a bit creative though.”

I give Elric a hard look.He is… acting much nicer than I was prepared for.I still have all kinds of misgivings, but I can’t deny a desire to trust him.Could he be a better man than I thought?Whatever, stupid question.His character doesn’t matter, I just need to get safely to the Last Light’s headquarters.

“Alright, thanks,” I say.

“No problem,” he replies.“I took a hotel room nearby, so if I need anything it shouldn’t be hard for us to get together.”

I nod, and with that our business is done for the moment.The Colonel heads out, and after spending a minute or two cooling off, I don my hat and such, then join Grant in his office.He doesn’t ask specifically about the man who visited me, although he does check to see how my business went.

I tell him it went well, and then offer to help him around the office.He’s pleased with my interest, and we spend the rest of the day managing things for Return of the Clean.Grant has a very eclectic mix of responsibilities, ranging from accounting and administration to research and sales and everything in between.He’s meticulous and organized with his work, just like I’d expect from a former detective.

The day passes peacefully, and for a while I’m able to forget the looming danger.The next is much the same.I meet with the Colonel so he can get a few things from me, including a picture.I can’t wear my sunglasses or hat, but he brings a wig and set of colored contact lenses that, mostly, make me look like a normal, if tiny, human being.

I pass the rest of the time in an ever growing miasma of anxiety.I haven’t told Grant or Tracy what my plan is, although I think my boss suspects I’m up to something.Still, he lets it pass, and I enjoy what might be the last of my days with the Walkers as best I’m able.

The next morning I’m woken from my restless sleep by a buzz.It’s a message from Elric saying, “It’s ready,” and arranging to meet a few hours from now.I theoretically have enough time to say goodbye, but I’m not sure my nerves could take it. Instead I pack up what little I’ll bring as quiet as I can.

I creep down the stairs and make my way to the front door.

“Need a ride Steph?”Grant says from a chair in the kitchen.

I manage to hold back a yelp, though I make some noise when I fling my bag into an umbrella stand.“A-ah, Grant,” I say.“I… I was…”

“Going to help Faith?”He offers.

I nod.“How did you know?”

“Ever since we got her letter you’ve had the look of a man with something he’s gotta do, that he might not come back from.”

“I, uh, guess I wasn’t as sneaky as I thought I was,” I say.

“No one ever is,” Grant says.“Are you sure you want to leave without saying goodbye to Tracy?”

“I- I don’t know.I’m afraid if I do, she’ll… she’ll talk me out of it… or I will.”

Grant nods.“I see.”

“I left her a note on my desk,” I say.“And you, too.”As I’m looking at him my eyes start to go blurry.I feel a sudden impulse to run to him, and before I think about it I’ve given in.He seems to sense my intention, as he stands up just in time for me to slam into him with a powerful hug.

He pats my head.

“Th-thanks.M-more than I can ever say, for being there… when I needed…”

“I’m glad we met,” Grant says.“You’re a good kid.”I look up at him.“And I know you’ll be back.You’re a tough little one, and don’t you forget it.”

I stay pressed into him for a minute or so, just long enough for my emotions to settle, then head to the door.

“Give ‘em hell, Steph,” Grant says.“God knows they deserve it.”

I nod, then step outside.The walk to the nearest metro station isn’t a short one by any means, but it’s not so long that I get worn out by the time I reach it.I do my best to blend in with the morning commuters, feeling an impending sense of doom and paranoia.Part of my mind keeps suggesting possible Last Light agents in the crowd, waiting to pounce.

Thankfully, my imagination has a terrible track record with reality, so I make it to Elric’s hotel without issue.Once there the Colonel hands me a passport.Given that I’m not Abigale Delphi I can only assume it’s a fake.I give Elric a raised eyebrow.

He returns a sly grin.“Occasionally we have a need to relocate a client… unofficially,” he says.“So it can be helpful to, let’s say, know someone who knows someone.”

“How certain are you this is going to work?” I ask.

“Hasn’t failed yet,” Elric says.“And since we’re headed to Switzerland I have extra resources on hand to ensure it does.”

“Well, alright, I guess we’re good to go?”

He nods, and we head down to his car.It’s a quiet drive to the airport, neither of us willing to engage in small talk.That’s fine, I take advantage of the opportunity for a catnap.At the airport I don a little dust mask, walking around like a Japanese grandma in flu season.I only take it off the few times someone needs to get a look at my face, and I make sure not to speak or smile when I do.

We make it through security without issue, apparently eligible for some kind of boarding super highway where all I have to make it through is a metal detector.That’s probably for the best.I’m pretty sure even the goons at the TSA would notice the tail poking out of my butt.

Once we’re boarded it’s smooth sailing to Zurich, and I really mean it.I’ve never been more comfortable on a plane before.I finally figured out the intended demographic for these shitty seats: four foot tall cat-girls.Who knew?

I watch a few crappy inflight movies, and start to regret not bringing a portable gaming system.Not that I own one, but given the distinct possibility that this time next week I’ll be dead, or worse, it might have been worth it to buy one.

I make it through customs on the other side just as easily, and we’re met outside the airport by one of the Colonel’s employees.He’s a serious looking man with pitch black hair and brooding eyes.He introduces himself as Jet and doesn’t say a word more.

We head south by car, driving well into the night.I slowly drift to sleep, only to wake some hours later to Elric carrying me across an asphalt runway.When he see’s I’m up he sets me down and says, “Sorry, you were pretty out of it.”

“It’s alright,” I say as I follow him.“Where are we?”

“The closest military base to your destination.”

“This is where that guy owes you a favor, right?”

The Colonel nods.“I told him a friend of mine wanted an arial tour of the Alps.”

“You must have done him a real solid if he’s loaning you a whole aircraft.”

“Oh, I did, but not so much that I didn’t have to bring my own helicopter.”He points to a black vehicle sitting on the tarmac.Fresh snow drifts across its landing skids.I start walking towards it, but he turns me by the shoulder towards a squat building nearby.“Not so fast kid, we’ve got to gear up first.”

“We?I told you I was doing this alone.”I give him a hard look.

“Yeah, I know.You’ll be the only one going in, but I want to be dressed up for a special occasion when things go wrong.You don’t get to be my age in this business without expecting the worst.”

I huff, but otherwise permit Elric to guide me.Inside I find a young woman sitting by a table loaded in military hardware.

“Hi Amber,” Elric says to the woman.“Thanks for making it out here on such short notice.This is Steph.”He motions towards me.

Amber gives me a careful look, then says,“I do not understand why we are taking a little girl deep into the Alps.”She has a very thick accent, which I would guess is German.“You said this is a favor for a man from your army days, but surely this man could think of a better treat for his daughter than playing soldier in the mountains.They are not even pretty this time of year.”

Elric smiles at me.“Amber’s one of the sharpest on my team, but she’s never good about leaving well enough alone.”

I look at the woman.She has short blond hair and striking blue eyes.“I’m much older than I look,” I say.“And as for why I’m out here, well”—I pull the wig off, as well as the elastic bands holding down my ears—“let’s just say it’s complicated.”

Amber’s eyes flash in alarm and confusion.“What kind of joke is this?”

“You can fill them in, Colonel,” I say.“While I find a sink and a mirror to take these contacts out.”

Elric huddles up with Amber and Jet as I walk to a promising door.Inside I find exactly what I’m looking for, and after washing my hands take the pesky lenses from my eye.They were more than a little uncomfortable, and made everything blurry.When I return Amber’s looking twice as skeptical, though Jet is as nonchalant as ever.

“A-are you really, some kind of… of beast man?”Amber asks.

“You’re welcome to feel around and check for yourself,” I say, offering her my outstretched claws.

At first she seems to take that as a threat, but after leaving my arm dangling in front of her for an uncomfortably long time, she eventually takes it and gives it a very thorough examination.

“This… this is…” She starts to say.

“Can you emotionally process this later,” I say.“We have work to do, and I don’t know how much time there is to do it.”

Amber takes a sharp breath, and shakes her head.She steels her eyes and then says, “Very well.I managed to find tactical gear in your size.As soon as you’re dressed, we can load up and head out.”

Fifteen minutes later I’ve changed into the offered equipment.I imagine I look like a hobbit commando, complete with black combat boots and a tight fitting vest.Elric hands me a tiny rifle.“You still remember how to use one of these things?”He asks with a sidelong grin.

“Pointy end towards enemy,” I say as I take it from him.

He laughs.“Close enough.I’m giving you one with a silencer, because they don’t make ear plugs for kittens.”

I look the gun over and nod with approval.I still remember how miserable firing the pistol was, so I’m thankful for his consideration.Still, “I hope I don’t end up needing it.”

“I though the plan was to go in guns blazing,” Elric says.He’s probably messing with me, though he delivered the line so straight I can’t be certain.

“Yeah, in fact, I’d rather run in to Faith on the way in, then grab her and turn right back.There’s got to be a better way to take on the Last Light than a one woman shadow war.”

“And if that doesn’t happen?”Elric asks.

I hum, then say, “I have a very good sense of smell, and remember her scent.If I don’t pick up a trace of her, then I’ll assume she hasn’t made it here yet.In that case she’s most likely at a nearby ski resort, where I should be able to pick up her trail.”

“What if she’s gone in alone?”

“Then I’m going in after her.I can be pretty sneaky, so with luck I can find her and bust her out without too much trouble.”

“Should we really allow this girl to do this by herself?” Amber says.

Elric gives her a smile.“Steph’s always been a lot tougher than he looks, and that was before he had claws.”

Amber studies his eyes for a moment, then says, “Very well, sir.”She grabs a few extra magazines off the table, then turns to me.“Are you ready?”

I nod, then follow Elric’s team out onto the tarmac.We load into the helicopter, and after taking a moment to figure out how to put a pair of earmuffs on me, Amber fires up the aircraft and we begin our journey.

We fly low to the ground, just high enough to scrape the treetops.It feels like we’re traveling perilously fast, though Amber takes each turn with practiced indifference.As the the sun peaks over the mountains Amber sets down in a small clearing.

“This should be a few miles from your destination,” she says.“I’ll wait here and keep an ear on the comm in case you need me.”

“Thanks for the help,” I say, then slide the door open and hop out.I’ve thrown on a thick coat and pants over my gear to deal with the extreme cold.They blend in nicely with the snow covered terrain.Elric and Jet jump out after me, similarly attired.I give the Colonel a hard look as we get far enough from the helicopter to speak.

“I told you I’d get you to that base, didn’t I?” he says.“That means within sight of it.”After a few more seconds of my glare, he adds, “Unless you know enough about land nav to make it alone.”

I sigh.The last thing I need is to get lost in some damn forest a mile from the finish line.I have a GPS with me, and a map, but I know just enough about mountaineering to know I can’t walk in a straight line and expect things to work out.I wave him along.

We set off into the forest, with Elric taking point and Jet in the rear.The journey is a long one, and I’m once again thwarted by my short stature.The Colonel and Jet allow me to take breaks without complaint, though it makes me feel like I’m in completely over my head.Well, more than I already do, I suppose.

After a couple hours we arrive at a tree line overlooking the base.It’s nestled in the intersection of two mountains, a cavernous opening with a few large structures looming inside.We’re a thousand feet away from the narrow landing leading into it, and I can make out what appears to be a helipad out front.Two prongs of forest touch on either side, offering a concealed path to approach.

“You picking up any sign of that woman of yours?”Elric asks.“Or is it too cold out here for that?”

I take a few sniffs at the air around us.“I’m smelling something, but I can’t tell if it’s a good sign or a bad one.”

“Oh, what exactly?”

I frown.“Blood.Just a whiff of it, but I’m fairly certain it’s coming from the base.”

“Does that mean she’s already been here?”

“Most likely, but I can’t say if she’s still around.”

Elric hums.“Well, for now, it might be best to stay put and observe.At this distance, as long as we stay concealed in the tree line, they shouldn’t be able to pick us out.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I say.“Though I think I’ll get a little closer.Can you guys hang back while I go on ahead?”

“Sure thing, just let me double check your radio.”Elric says.I nod, and after fiddling with it for a few seconds he does a quick test.With that I start my prowl to the entrance.We came in from the right side, so given that it’s the shorter path I head that way.

After a few hundred feet I hear Elric’s voice in my ear.“Hey, hold up a minute.”

“What’s going on?”I reply.

“I’m picking something up on thermal.”

“Something?”

“Could be a camera, wouldn’t be surprised if it was an infrared one.”

“Any way past it?”I ask.

“Depends on which way it’s pointing.For now stay as deep behind the trees as you can.I’m going to keep looking to see if I can pick out anything useful.”

“Alright, thanks,” I say.Well, isn’t that great.Unless these guys are total idiots it doesn’t look like I’ll be sneaking in.Regardless, I press on, eventually making it to a point a few dozen feet from the entrance.

Once there I make an interesting discovery, though I can’t say how much good it will do.Faith’s picture didn’t show a road, but coming along through a hidden tunnel is a narrow path that looks level enough for a rugged vehicle.

“Looks like there is a road after all,” I radio to Elric.

“I’d guess the camera is pointing that way then,” he responds.“It’s in the right place for it, at least.”

“You think I should back off and come in from the other side?”

“For now just sit tight.”

“Will do.”And with that I settle in.I try to put as many trees between me and the camera as possible.After I’ve picked a good spot, there’s nothing to do but huddle down and count away the time.

After about a half hour, Elric contacts me.“Hey Steph, I have… well, not so much a plan, but perhaps the beginning of one.There seems to be a plume of warm air coming up from a vent inside the cave.I’d guess the outflow for the entire complex.If you could get to it without being seen you might be able to pry off the cover and get inside without anyone noticing.”

“Would the vent be big enough for me?”I say.I was half tempted to ask if I looked like Sam Fisher, but decided against it.

“A facility like this needs a lot of circulation, so the ducts will likely be larger as well.And besides, you are rather small.”

“Hmm, it might be worth checking out.Can you tell me where it is?”

“It’s on the left side, underneath the camera.”

“So, if I can get there I’ll either be completely out of sight, or completely exposed.”

Elric laughs.“That about sums it up.”He hums.“Though, I wonder if there might be an intake nearby too.Maybe on the opposite side?I doubt it would be any less visible, but if you find a way past the camera it could be a lot closer.”

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” I say.“For now let’s just sit tight and see how our options develop, though I can’t say it’s looking good.”

“Hey, don’t fret kid.Worst case scenario Jet and I can whip up a distraction for ya, and then fall back to Amber.I bet I could hit that camera from back here, and then all you’d have to do is slip past their security response.”

“Let’s call that plan B.”

He chuckles, then says, “Sure thing, boss.”

The Colonel’s in a rather cheerful mood.I wonder if part of why he agreed to help was the excitement of it.This _is_ almost like the plot out of a Tom Clancy novel, minus the cat-girl thing.A silly part of my mind is worried he might do something crazy to spice things up.

He didn’t strike me as that kind of guy back in the Army, but I didn’t know him that well.Now that we’ve spent more time together I’m rethinking a lot of my assumptions about him.

I sigh, and shake my head.Now is definitely not the time to be musing about the past.I refocus on the present, spending a few seconds to take in my other senses.I pull my hood down, exposing my ears.The chill nips at them, but they have enough fur that I can keep them out a few minutes at a time.

Right now I can’t hear anything more than the gentle turning of the wind, rustling the treetops and whistling through a distant crack in the rocks.A few deep breaths through my nose reveals the rich scent of blood.I also pick up a few other things, nothing distinct, but enough to support Elric’s theory about an outflow vent.

After another half hour or so I’m tempted by the Colonel’s offer for a distraction.Before I can think on it too long I notice a new scent on the wind.

Is that diesel exhaust?

Another ten minutes reveals that it is, in the form of a low rumble from the nearby tunnel.Suddenly, a mad plan runs through my head.

“Elric, hang tight, I’m going in,” I snap over the radio.

Before he can respond a truck rolls out of the tunnel onto the narrow road.It looks like an old army five ton, complete with a soft canvas shell over the bed.

I dash to a tree a few feet from the narrow shoulder and wait for it to pass.I peek into the front cab and see two men.They are chatting vigorously and I can make out the sound of laughter over the engine.

Just after the tail end passes I spring onto the road behind it and latch onto the tailgate.I’m tempted to crawl inside, but something tells me this needs to be a very short journey.Instead, I get as close to the right side as I can.

When it starts to turn, I hop off and run to the side until I can no longer see anyone in the mirror.The truck’s behavior doesn’t change, so I assume neither the driver nor his passenger notice me.It’s hard to keep up, but in theory I should have been shielded from the camera by the the truck as we crossed in front of it.

After we pass into the shadow of the cave it take my eyes a second to adjust.What I see is technically encouraging, in a discouraging sort of way.There is, as Elric guessed, an air intake on this side.Unfortunately the vent is at least ten feet tall and covered in a steel grate.I’m about to turn around and try my luck sprinting past the camera when I notice a door just a few paces behind the vent.I can hear machinery churning inside.

I mange to match the pace of the truck long enough to reach the opening.I see ‘PUMPENRAUMEINLASS’ in red letters on the door, and when I try the handle it pops open.I slip in and slide the door shut.

My heart is racing as I slump against the wall to catch my breath.No one’s busted in guns blazing so it appears I’ve gotten away with it.It’s warm, and painfully loud.I throw my hood on to dampen the noise and look around.I’m not much of a mechanic, but I’d guess this is where they pump in the air for the rest of the base.Judging by the sweat beading off my forehead this is also where they heat it.

A few minutes exploration doesn’t reveal many options.The only possible path forward is a vent tucked in the far corner.It certainly isn’t big enough for a grown man to slip through, and I doubt even I could with this gear on.

I find a dark corner nearby, hidden underneath some bulky machine, and stuff my excess equipment inside.I decide to keep the gun, a multi-tool, and the radio.I start throwing in clothes until I’m down to my pants.I give them a hard look, then up at the vent.Do I really want an encore of Steph’s underdressed adventure?

I mean, no, but I also don’t want to get my butt stuck in a vent, so into the pile they go.I’m down to my wool socks, a pair of gloves, my t-shirt, and my underwear.I strap the multi-tool pouch onto my wrist, sling the rifle over my back, and then it’s up I go.There are barely enough footholds to wedge myself in front of the grate.I undo a few screws, pry it out, and set it down on a narrow flat nearby.

I poke my head into the duct, checking each direction.To the right I see an opening with a whirling metal blade, presumably a fan.To the left I see a very dim light far away.

Well, here goes nothing.I crawl inside, catching my hips on the narrow opening.I’m able to force them through, though even with my fur I get a wicked scratch.I wiggle around a bit, tucking my legs in and then backing up until I can reach out of the vent to grab the grate and wedge it in place.

I have a lot of time to question the life choices that lead to this moment as I squirm down the long tube, and with each passing second I regret more and more the decision not to storm the front entrance with Elric and Jet.I mean, we definitely would have died, but at least I wouldn’t be crammed into a metal pipe with scorching hot air blasting up my butt.

I should have taken my water bottle.

Whatever.I make it to the first opening and look into a cavernous room.In fact, it might not be so much a room as it is an actual cavern.A black pillar stands in the middle, stretching up to the arched roof.Soft light fills the space, illuminating rows and rows of monoliths, similar in color to the central pillar but covered in gold patterns.The duct wraps around the borders, and then terminates on the opposite side.

I’m not sure if I’m disappointed this doesn’t go further in, or pleased because I can leave the fucking hell pipe.

In either case, I use my pliers to carefully undo the screws on the grate, then shove it out with one hand while gripping with the other.It pops out and I’m able to pull it inside.I poke my chest out, grabbing a nearby brace, and drag the rest of my body through.I wrap one leg over the duct so I’m dangling sideways, and then shove the vent cover back into place.It’s lopsided, but it’s getting increasingly difficult to maintain my position so I let it be.

I rotate my body outward, and look down.The ground is at least ten feet away, probably more.Hopefully my springy legs are enough take the impact.If not, I guess I’ll just die.

I let go, throwing one arm back to pin the rifle before landing into a deep squat.I feel a sharp pain in my ankles, but a few steps show they probably aren’t broken.Still, I hobble to a nearby monolith and lean against it to catch my breath.Free from the filtered air in the duct I once again detect the odor of blood, but also…is that?

I crouch down, and begin creeping after my nose, carefully picking my way through the black tablets.The scent is coming from the direction of the entrance.I get within a dozen feet of the source, and take cover behind a stone slab.I can hear a woman mumbling to herself, though I can’t make out the words.

I take a quick peek.

The girl, or perhaps woman, is standing in front of an especially large monument set apart from the others.She’s holding a notebook in one hand, and the other is resting under her chin as she stares at the object in front of her with intense scrutiny.

She’s also four foot tall with especially long and pointy ears, like a tiny elf.I’m almost positive this is the woman who introduced herself as Sylvia when I was captured, though I’m not going to test that theory by calling out her name.

I’m about to sneak off when I hear a sharp beep from Sylvia.My heart skips a beat, until I hear her say, “Yeah, I’ll be there right away,” and then a few seconds later say, “Just checking the prime slate.I’d hate to get blindsided again because some translator was feeling poetic.”

She slaps her notebook closed, and then I hear nothing else.I stay perfectly still, half expecting her to pop into the row with me, or maybe pounce down from up above.It’s not until I’m feeling the fringe of panic that I recall how quietly she moved when last we met.I risk another peek and see she’s long gone.

Most of me knows that I should move out, get deeper into the facility to look for Faith, but a persistent little part thinks the slate Sylvia was looking at might have answers to all the mysteries about Faith, the Last Light, and the supposed goddess that lies at the center of all this.

I give in to my curiosity.

Hmm…Well, okay.I’m still certain I’m right, but that doesn’t mean it was helpful.This is clearly a monument, though to what I can only guess.The material is black stone, perfectly smooth except where it’s been inlayed with golden text.The script is impenetrable.It looks like any other modern language, except that it’s completely foreign to me.

Somewhat more comprehensible, though only just, is the pair of images laid beside the writing.One of them is clearly human, with a mean face and arms raised in savage fury.He looks towards another humanoid creature, this one far larger.It has soft, sad eyes, and is dressed in relative finery compared to the patchy animal skins worn by the man.

The tablet isn’t forthcoming with any more details, though I see another stone slate sitting at the foot of it.This one I would guess is a summary of the larger one, helpfully delivered in German.Fat lot of good that’s going to do me.

I shake my head.I shouldn’t have come out here.I scurry back into cover and start towards the other side of the cavern.I saw another tunnel on the far side while I was dropping out of the vent, which is as good a place as any to start my search.

There are a few men in the field of stones, I presume engaged in similar work to Sylvia, although I have no idea what that was in the first place.In any case, thanks to my enhanced senses I’m able to evade them and make it to the opposite side.I have to wait a few minutes for an opening, but I’m able to slip into the long hallway.

From there it’s a game of cat and mouse, no pun intended, with the steady trickle of staff that pass through the facility’s inner halls.Thankfully there are a good number of nooks and crannies for a diminutive, cat-girl ninja wannabe to duck into whenever things get crowded.The only language I hear is German so its hard for me to judge the atmosphere, but there seems to be a festive air.I’d guess they recently had a big win.

The attitude is at odds with the persistent smell of blood that permeates the air, although I suppose I might be the only one who notices.Still, I can guess why they might be in a good mood.Underneath the more prevalent scent of Sylvia I also detect a strong undercurrent of Faith.She must be somewhere in the facility.

Unfortunately, the air is churned about so much I can’t get a read on her location.I’m carefully poking around in every room I pass, so long as I can’t hear anyone inside.During my work I discover a promising—if somewhat tangental—aroma wafting out of a small room down a secluded hallway.

Inside I find exactly what I expected, and more.This is an armory, or more like an equipment locker.There’s a plethora of guns and ammo, as well as all the gear an aspiring commando could ever hope for.There’s even some cold weather things, enough at least for me to last a few minutes in the air outside if I’ve got to bail in a hurry.

I go ahead and throw on a jacket that’s too big for me, and a pair of thermal underwear.I’m sure I look ridiculous, especially since I had to rip a foot off the bottom of my leggings, but at least I won’t have to double back into the pump room to go outside.I’m wishing now that I’d made the effort to keep my boots.Problems for… earlier?

Whatever, the real jackpot is scoring another vest and set of pouches to carry more magazines.Thank god for NATO and ammunition standards.There’s also a very dangerous looking box full of explosives.I know as much about demolition as the next guy, but I’d guess they’re the kind you use to take down a sky scraper.

Faith is rubbing off on me, because I’m tempted to take them to that big pillar in the main cavern and drop the whole mountain on these bastards.

I shake my head.I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

I duck out of the armory bristling with martial vigor, and have to fight the urge to go all Arnold Schwarzenegger on these motherfuckers.This job might not be a lot easier with a pile of corpses in my wake, but it would be a lot more satisfying.Fuck these guys.I resist the bloodlust and continue my prowl.

I make it down two more hallways and a flight of stairs before I find another interesting room.From outside I catch a whiff of some pungent chemical aroma.It’s not the distinct scent of Faith or Sylvia, but it’s strong enough to cover up any other scent when I’m nearby.I poke my head through the door and…

A wave of nausea threatens to throw me off balance.Sitting before me is the hacked up remains of an unfamiliar animal.They are floating in a glass tube, like a prop from a mad scientist’s lab.An eery green light filters out, casting twisted shadows across the floor, walls, and ceiling.

I scan the room, against my better judgement, and see the scene repeated dozens of times.A large part of me wants to bail right away, and trust to hope that Faith is alive in some other room, but I know I have to check every one of these specimens.

I start by the door, working my way down.The creatures are all in various states of dissection, each distinct from every other, and so far none have a humanoid form.That changes when I make to the last glowing tube.A few more lurk in darkness further on, but in this one I see…Sylvia?

No… not her, although clearly a woman of the same species.I can’t say if this one is any taller, because her torso and legs are separated by tattered ribbons of flesh.Just a guess, but I think she might have gotten herself shot to pieces.This must have been Sylvia’s mother, then.I wonder if she knows?

I quickly dart my eyes behind me, fully expecting the girl herself materialize behind me, but I’m all alone.

I have a feeling the answer to that question is yes, and the answer to the obvious follow up is no, she doesn’t care at all.It’s hard to imagine why she’s here.Did they brainwash her?I sigh and shake my head.As nice a girl as she seemed, I have more than enough problematic women in my life already.

At least I didn’t find Faith all chopped up, so I’m confident she’s alive.Having the terminator bunny on my side will be helpful for getting out too.

I slink out of the specimen room and resume my descent.The number of people walking about is increasing as I get further in, and three floors down I’m forced to huddle under a staircase while a troupe of scientists march up to the next level.I almost think I’ll be stuck under there forever, until I notice a warm breeze from the shadows.

I discover a vent nestled under here, and to my surprise it’s twice the size as the vent I snuck through earlier.I wonder if they weren’t worried about an infiltrator down here, or if it’s just a question of air pressure.In either case I’m not going to question my luck.I pull out my multi-tool and unscrew the grate.

I leave it laying flat in the shadows and crawl inside.The air is pleasantly warm, if a bit dusty.After crawling forward a few feet I turn to the right.There appears to be a fair few openings along the way to the next turn.The first one looks like a storage room, but through the next one I spy a woman in a lab coat, sitting at a console.She appears to be reading a book.

There’s also a faint whiff of Faith’s distinct scent, although it’s hard to tell if it’s from further down the air duct or this room.I’ll have to check.The woman looks very in to her novel, and is turned away from me, so she shouldn’t notice me unscrewing the grate.Just to be careful I set my rifle in a convenient position before I start.

It’s slow work, made all the more tense by the necessity of absolute silence.I’m just able to squeeze my pinky finger through the narrow slits to hold the top fasteners, and with a bit of luck I’m able to pull the first one in without dropping it.

The second one isn’t so friendly.It tumbles down to the floor and bounces to the feet of the woman’s chair.She was focused on her reading, but nowhere near enough to miss the clinking metal.She looks up and around, and then down at the screw rolling back and forth.I grab the rifle with one hand, ready to pop back and take a shot if needed.

Please ignore it.

With a puzzled look, she bends down and grabs the screw, then scans the room until she notices the vent.She hops out of her chair and wanders over, squatting down with her face right in front of me.Her eyes flash in alarm, and I take the shot.

Thanks to the silencer the report isn’t deafening, but it’s still more than loud enough for someone to notice.Given where I am I’m sure the sound echoed into every room on the floor.I’m not sure if that’s better or worse, but either way I’ve got to do my work in a hurry.Faith had better be here.

I get to work on the bottom screws, cursing myself for not doing them first.Every second I spend stuffed in here is another second a squad of armed guards could come storming in to blow me away.

The last screw drops after an agonizing minute, and I shove the grate out of the way with my legs, dead body and all.Once I’m able to stand up I’m relieved to see Faith.I’m much less relieved to see that she’s clamped to a table in another room through a glass partition.Those metal clasps don’t look like the kind of thing I could chew through in the next ten minutes.

My only hope is to find something on this console.If only I could read German.

Although there is a cornucopia of options, only a select few are remotely promising.The most tempting is a large red button protected by a plastic cover.The label is big, brightly colored, and looks like someone jammed a whole paragraph into one word.There is a thin slot just above, and an experimental tug suggests the cover won’t budge without a key card.A quick search of the woman’s corpse reveals an ID with her picture on top and a chip at the base.

I return to the console and take a final second to consider the button.This will definitely release Faith from her bindings.Or kill her.

Or blow up the base.

I suppose that last one might be acceptable… I’d love to discuss the options with the murder bunny herself, but we’re on a strict schedule.I pop the card into the slot and a bright red light starts flashing around the edge of the cover.I flip it open, and to my surprise an alarm wails through the base.

Shit.I mash the button as quick as I can, and thankfully the metal bands slide open.Unthankfully, I see that there are still a handful of leather straps pinning her arms and legs.At least the glass door slid open.I’m not sure I could have shot my way through.

I run around the panel of buttons, through the door, and arrive at Faith’s side.

Her eyes and ears are covered by leather straps, and what appears to be a feeding tube has been run down her mouth, which is held open by a steel bit.I cut away her ear coverings first, then say, “Hey Faith, it’s me, Steph.Just hold tight while I get you out, okay?”

She looks drowsy, but manages to nod.I start with the blindfold, careful not to jab the point of my knife into her head.She blinks a few times, shaking the dazed look from her eyes while I move to her arms.Once they are free she pulls the tube out of her throat.

She coughs a few times, then croaks, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”I pull a little space under the straps on her legs, when Fatih suddenly wraps an arm around me, pulling the rifle into a firing position.She takes a few shots, and I hear the rounds ricochet behind me.I assume she fired through the open door into the observation room, though I don’t turn around to check.Instead I keep cutting her free.

When she’s finally unbound, I pull her off the table and onto her feet.She slumps her nude body into me, keeping the rifle aimed as best she can.I rotate to face the door, slipping the weapon into my hands.

“Stick tight,” I say to Faith as I move forward.Through the transparent barrier I can see the door to the hallway is open, and a few guards standing outside.They haven’t fired yet, though I’m not sure if that’s because they don’t want to risk killing Faith, or if they just don’t have the caliber to puncture the glass barrier.They aren’t armed with dart guns, so I have no doubt that they’ll shoot _me_ to pieces if they get the chance.

Near the outer door I notice a glowing panel and I’m struck by a bolt of Hollywood logic.If I shoot it, will that cause the door to jam shut?It might buy us time to get to the air vent, or I might waste a few bullets force the door to stay open indefinitely.

Still, I’m in an option poor environment and I don’t think this is a wait it out kind of problem.Those guards look like they’re waiting for the order to storm in, and no matter how good my shooting I’m confident they’ll bust their way in no problem.I wish I’d grabbed a few grenades from the armory while I was in there, or at least a second pistol for Faith.

It is not at all easy to aim without exposing my body, but I hit the controls after three attempts.To my surprise, and relief, the door slides shut.I scramble into the observation room with Faith in tow, then say, “Okay, I’ll try to distract them.You’ll find a stairwell if you go left through this duct.From there you might be able to slip past the guards and get to the Armory.It was—“

“I know where it is,” Faith says.She’s sounding much sturdier already. “I got a map of the facility when I… made my first attempt.”

“Excellent, head there and hopefully you’ll—“

Faith cuts me off with a kiss on the cheek.“You… you are a better ally than I deserve.”

“I—“

She puts a finger to my lips.“When you were in the equipment locker, did you see a string of explosives?”

“You mean the demolition charges?”

She nods.“I…I’m going to destroy the pillar in the main hall, which should collapse the mountain.”She takes a deep breath, and I feel a few drops of water tumble onto my ears.“I do not know if I will be able to come back for you, but… but I promise I will try, at least, to draw them off.If you make it past… if I’ve failed, please, destroy the pillar, even if it means leaving me behind.”

“C-come on, stop with that,” I say.I’m starting to have flashbacks to the office.“We’re both going to make it out of here, okay?”

She shakes her head.“All that matters to me is for these men to be destroyed.The goddess can make another progenitor if she desires.”I start to stutter something out, but she silences me with a hug.“I’m sorry for what I did to you.”She disappears into the duct.

I push off my feelings, and start taking pot shots at the door.It’s not much, but I’m hoping it will distract them long enough for Faith to make it to the stairs.I go through the rest of the magazine and reload.I haven’t heard anything, so I’m not sure if Faith still needs me to keep their attention.At any moment, the door is going to slide open and someone will throw in flash-bang.Or a grenade.

That sounds like a whole lot of hell no, so I duck into the duct myself.I pull the grate up in the vain hope it will confuse them a few extra seconds.Rather than head towards the stairs I opt to head right.Maybe they won’t think to check further along the ducts, or Faith will draw them to the next level.

I make it less than ten feet before the door in the observation room slides open.Then, just as expected, an explosion follows a few seconds later.I cover my ears in time, though I’m still disoriented.I push forward, skipping a grate under the assumption they’ll check that room first.

I hear a clamor of voices, too tumultuous to distinguish any specific phrase, and I expect too German to understand anyway.I also hear someone wrench open the vent I just passed, so I turn around and aim my rifle.Shooting the first motherfucker to pop his head in won’t help me at all, but it will hurt the Last Light a little more.Plus, every minute the guards are down here killing me is a minute they aren’t upstairs stopping Faith from crushing them with a mountain.

Before anyone can give me that last taste of spite, an explosion rings out from a level or two up.It’s nowhere near loud enough to be the mountain collapsing, so it must be a grenade Faith set off.She actually made good on her promise.

I feel a warm glow of happiness, mixed in with all my other far more dire emotions.It probably won’t be enough to get me out of here alive, but it’s nice to know she cares.

I hear a few angry barks from the room behind me, and then stomping boots diminish into the distance.I decide to stick in the ducts until I have to leave them.It is not a quick journey, by any stretch, but the distance is also not particularly long.I eventually make my way to a dead end, with the only path forward being a narrow tube heading straight up.

It’s far too narrow for me to climb, even if I stripped back to my skivvies, so I backtrack a few feet to the last grate.The room outside looks empty, so I don’t make any pretense of stealthiness, I just kick it out of the way as fast as I can, then scurry through.I find myself in an ordinary looking bunkhouse, thankfully depleted of tenants.I don’t spend any time looking about, heading immediately for the exit.

I poke my head into the hallway.I must be in the furthest possible point from the entrance, as the left dead ends immediately into a rock wall.The right reveal a handful of guards standing at a not so distant intersection.They haven’t noticed me, no doubt helped by the poor lighting on this end.Still, I highly doubt I could sneak past them.

Not all is lost though, as in front of me I see a door with “PUMPENRAUMABFLUSS” printed on it in bright red letters. This must be the counterpart to the pump room on the surface.I bet I can find the entrance to the big outflow vent in here.

I’m not sure what to do about it without the benefit of rope, but we’re taking things one step at a time.I spring across the hall to the door and slip inside.Sure enough I find a tangled maze of pipes and pumps.I also see the bottom of a massive steel tube jutting out of the ceiling.It terminates in a sub-room, which also seems to be the destination of every other pipe.

I walk up to it.

And to my surprise I suddenly hear Elric’s voice pop in on the radio.“Steph, this is Elric checking in.Five more and I’m heading in.”

“Elric!” I cry out, possibly too loud.“Please tell me you brought rope!”

“Steph!” Elric yells back, definitely too loud, but he at least has the advantage of being outside the base.“Thank God you’re alright.When we heard the alarm go off I was certain you were in deep shit, but Jet insisted we wait until we could get you on the radio.”

I can’t help but laugh.“It sounds like you were about to bust in here anyway,” I say.I hear Elric laugh, then I continue, “But I’m glad you didn’t, ‘cause I need your help.”

I take a minute to explain my situation, then Elric says, “Yeah, we can do that.We’ve been creeping up the left side since you snuck in on that truck, so it shouldn’t take us more than a minute or two to get started.”

I leave him to his work, and set about on my own.Namely, it won’t do me any good for Elric to drop a rope down if I can’t get into this room, nor if I can’t stop what sounds like a giant fan spinning inside it.Thankfully, that first problem is easy enough to solve.I just have to open this door to the side, which I presume is there for maintenance purposes.

I check the handle, annoyed to find that it’s locked.I haven’t got a Faith around to rip the whole thing off by its hinges, but I do have the next best thing.A gun.I’m so glad I brought this.

Three bullets later and I’m inside.Well, not completely inside.I have to cling to the door frame in order to hold myself steady.It was just as I expected, a ten foot wide fan is built into the ceiling, spinning at frightening velocities.I need to find a way to stop it before Elric drops the rope.

I look at the motor in the center, then at my gun.It’s tempting, but a little part of me insists it wouldn’t end well.Stupid brain, no sense of adventure.

Still, I might be able to salvage part of the plan.I step out of the room, and look around until I find the electrical conduit.One magazine later, and the electric hum begins to taper off.That was a lot noisier than I hoped, so I’m sure guards will be coming in shortly.I hop back into the fan room.The blades are still spinning quite fast, but they’ve slowed down enough to see through to the surface.

Or they would, if not for the fact that there’s another fan halfway up the tunnel.Fuck.

“Elric,” I say into the radio.“We’ve got a problem, there’s another fan, but I can’t get to it.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” he replies.“I got something that’ll take care of it, though you might want to clear out.”

“Will do.”I back out of the room.A few seconds later there is a terrible clash and cry of bending metal.As the echos clear, I hear the door to the pump room burst open and a clamor of German.“Gonna need that rope in a hurry!”I jump into the fan room.Up above I can see a metal slat jammed into the second fan.

“The blades are spinning too fast down there,” Elric says.

I look up at the fan, then down at my rifle.Sorry buddy, you deserve better than this.I drop the magazine, clear the chamber, and toss it upwards.My dear friend gets wedged in between the metal casing of the power conduit.A few seconds later a pile of rope drops onto the floor.I start climbing.

Halfway to the middle fan a hail of bullets whizzes by.I see Jet aiming his rifle just past my head.A glance down reveals why.The door has been kicked open, and one of the guards is standing on the edge.I double my pace.

More concerning than down below is the increasingly loud moans coming from the fan above.I see the metal slat starting to bend.

“We have to hurry!”Is all I can work up the breath to yell.Elric must understand my concern, as he starts pulling on the rope while Jet covers the door.

The racket crescendos just as I’m pulling my legs through, and when I hear a thunderous crash I tuck myself in.I feel a painful slap on my tail, sending a wave of blinding pain up my spine.I barely manage to hold on as I’m slammed into the wall.Elric drags me ten feet before I recover enough to start climbing again on my own.

When he finally hoists me up over the edge I immediately cling to his waist, panting with relief.

“Good job making it out,” Elric says.“Did you find what you need?”

I blow out a long breath, doing my best to regain control of my wits.“I did, but we’re not done yet.”I push myself away, then look up at him.“Do you have demolition charges?”

He nods.“I thought it might come to that.”

“Then we have to go back in,” I say.“There’s a column in the central chamber, if we take that down it should drop this mountain on top of them.”

“What about the rabbit woman?”

“All that matters to Faith is destroying the Last Light.”

Elric nods.Jet hands me a pistol before we take off deeper into the cave.We make it a few dozen feet before a flurry of gunfire echos from the tunnel.A second later Faith comes hurtling around a bend, bouncing off the stone and rolling towards us.A hail of bullets chases her, and she just barely manages to slip out of the way.

She frantically waves for us to turn around, and plucks me off the ground on her way past.Things are happening so fast I hardly noticed she put on a layer or two of cold weather gear.With my body in hand Faith isn’t as quick, so Elric and Jet are able to keep up.

Just before we’re clear of the tunnel Faith skids to a stop and sets me on the floor.Jet and Elric halt behind us.

There are three armed and armored vehicles standing in our path, surrounded by a swarm of battle ready men.There must be at least fifty machine guns of various calibers trained on our position.

Standing at the front of the formation is an old man, and right beside him is the pointy eared Sylvia.The man looks… familiar?

“Mr. Paige?”I call out.Is that really the Director of Anthropology from the museum?It must be, but it’s surreal to see him here.He’s wearing something not unlike the garb of an old Catholic Priest.

“Ah, Steph, Steph,” he says.“I thought you were smarter than this.That creature is a traitor to you, and to the rest of the human race.Why would you throw your life, and the lives of your friends away for her?”

“Let’s just say that out of my two options, only one of them tried to sell me into slavery.”

He sighs and shakes his head.“It didn’t have to come to this.I don’t expect any of you to surrender, so I suppose this is where you die.”

“No,” Faith says.“This is where _we_ die.”

A explosion reverberates through the mountain, and then, as if in slow motion, the cave begins to crack and crumble.Paige has a moment of confusion, then his eyes go wide in panic.He starts to rush forward, but Sylvia grabs him by the waist and drags him back.

Terror washes over the enemy guards as they realize what’s about to happen.I feel Faith wrap me in her arms, and then all I know is chaos and noise and pain, until darkness claims my senses.

I come to some time later, chilled to the bone and more than a little miserable.Faith is nowhere to be seen.In fact, nothing is anywhere to be seen.I seem to be buried in snow.

I takes a little thinking, and more than a little squirming, but I get myself oriented upright and dig myself out.Luckily I didn’t end up too far below the surface.

Well, it remains to be seen how lucky I really was.My body is bruised, sore, and probably bleeding in a few places.I’m also pretty sure my tail is broken.As for where I ended up, it’s hard to say.Nothing is clicking.

At the very least I’m further down the mountain.I can see the now misshapen peak where the base used to be, more than a thousand feet away.It’s been stripped bare of snow, and a wide swath has been cleared through the trees leading up to it.I can’t see any signs of life nearby.

A cold wind is blowing, driving a thin layer of ice though my paltry winter clothes, so I trudge to the wood line.I’m not sure what my plan should be from there.I take stock of my options.For starters, freezing to death looks promising.A quick check of my radio reveals calling Amber is out of the question; it’s been shattered to pieces in what I assume is the same blow that broke a pair of ribs.

Besides that I could also…

Nothing.That’s it, freezing to death.I can’t think of anything else.Maybe something will come after a good sit amongst the trees.On my way there I almost trip over a metal pipe.I take a moment to dig it out and see it’s a rifle from the Last Light.I probably won’t need it, but I take it anyway.Gotta die with at least one friend nearby.

I hobble into the forest, then search around for some shelter from the wind.Before I make it far I stumble across a dead body.He’s been sat against a stubby pine, head slumped into his chest.The side of his black coat has a ragged hole torn through it, and I can see a splash of blood on the cloth underneath.

Wait a second…I get closer.Is that… is that… “Mr. Paige?” I say.

He looks up at me with sad eyes, and says, “Ah… Steph.”

I jump back and yelp, drawing my rifle up to his chest.

He chuckles weakly, then murmurs, “Sorry.I didn’t mean…”He shakes his head.“This all… it’s all gone wrong.And now”— He turns his head to the remains of the Last Light headquarters—“the last… the gift that was entrusted to us… gone.”A line of tears runs down the side of his face.

In spite of how much I should hate him, how much I _do_ hate him, I also can’t help but pity him.I step closer and squat to his level, though I keep the rifle aimed at him.He doesn’t seem like a spiteful person, but it’s better to be safe.Now that things aren’t so urgent, a few questions float into my mind.For starters, “Are you the guy who interrogated me?”

“Yes, of course,” Paige says.

“Why did you let me go?” I ask.“Did you think I’d forgive you or something?”

Paige shakes his head.“Needed a way to hide your body from the police.”He smiles.“Thought it would be easier if it could walk.”

“If you’re trying to make it sound like you’re a nice guy you ain’t doing a great job of it.”

“No, no, I… didn’t have the… the luxury, of such things.”His gaze wanders to the left.“All that matters is that knowledge of god is suppressed.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He sighs.“If it were widely known… there would be sympathizers.People who’d want to leave life in god’s hands.”

I give him a bewildered look.“Why should we care about that?”

“That’s what the Illuminant thought…”

“Who?”I’m getting angry with his vague answers.

“The people whose last light, whose final testament you just crushed under a mountain.”

“And who exactly are they supposed to be?”

“The species humanity replaced.Now that we’ve failed to heed their warning we’ll share their fate.”

I stare at him in silence, trying to process what he’s saying.Eventually, I come to a conclusion, though it sounds too ridiculous to be true.“Do you mean Faith is, what, going to wipe us all out, or something?”

“When her kind ceases to be a novelty, and becomes a competitor, we will find one million years of evolution to be an insurmountable advantage.”

I think a little more, trying to piece together the last pieces of this puzzle.“So, what you’re saying, is that something like this happened before, but with humans and, uh…”

“Illuminant, is what they called themselves, the light bringers.They allowed our species to grow under their care, but a war broke out when resources grew scarce, and their civilization was broken beyond repair.In the harsh new world their evolutionary superior dominated, until the Illuminant faded to nothing.”

I look towards the shattered mountain, though I can’t see it through the trees.That big cavern full of stone tablets must have been some ancient artifact of their civilization… and I just helped crush it into dust.In spite of my animosity, a terrible sense of loss creeps into my heart.I even start to feel a scrap of sympathy for Sebastian.I understand now what he was trying to do.The only problem is, “You’re wrong.”

“What?”

“You’re wrong.You, the Last Light, you all thought you needed to start the war sooner, but you would have been better off working to make sure the war never started at all.”

“Conflict… is inevitable.”

“It certainly is with that attitude,” I say.“And look where it got you.”I wave my arms towards the general area.“You wanted enemies, and you got enemies.”

“In the future—“

“In the future,” I cut in.Something of a fiery passion has welled up in me.I’m not sure if this is a heartfelt speech, or if I’m just staying warm. In either case, I continue, “If humans and Faith’s people think of each other as enemies, then they’ll have enemies.But it doesn’t have to be that way, there can be peace, if they want it!”I finish much louder than I meant to.I chuckle, then add, “Besides, they’ve only got to put up with each other until they figure out how to get to another planet, right?”

Sebastian looks down.“Interstellar travel is not so easy as you think.”

I sigh and shake my head.I meant that as a joke.“Whatever, then they’ll just have to get along until the sun blows up.”

“I… don’t know that it’s possible.”

“Then work to make it possible,” I snap.He looks confused, so I add, “From prison, where you belong.”That seems to satisfy him.“Anyway, why don’t we take a look at that wound on your chest.”I reach out.

“Tha—“

“Stay away from him!”Someone screams.

I turn to see Sylvia leaping at me, knife in hand.I barely have enough time to process Sebastian yell, “Sylvie!” before I catch her by the wrists and throw her to the ground.In spite of our similar size I have no trouble keeping her pinned.

I hear Sebastian coughing and turn to see him struggling to reach us.He yells, “Please, don’t hurt her!”His eyes show genuine distress.

I look down at Sylvia.She has tears in her eyes as she attempts to wiggle from my grip.She glances back and forth between me and Sebastian.The knife slipped from her grasp.I pin her wrists together, so I can hold them with one hand, then throw the knife to the side.Finally, I let Sylvia slip away.

“Vati!” She yells as she scrambles to Mr. Paige.She sets him back against the tree and shields his body with her own, then turns to me.“Don’t hurt him!”

I study her for a second.The two of them seem to genuinely care for one another.I don’t get it, but now isn’t the time to be antagonistic.I’ve cooled down, both metaphorically and literally, and I’ve got bigger problems to deal with.Like getting out of here alive.

“I wasn’t going to,” I say to Sylvia.I release my rifle to hang by its sling and put out both hands.“Let’s—“

Before I finish my sentence a few things happen in very rapid succession.First, Faith drops in through the trees and plants herself for a kick.Second, without thinking about it, I jump in front of Faith, shielding the small elven girl.I yell for her to wait as I leap into position.Third, Faith’s heel connects with my chest.I feel my ribs shatter and myself slam into Sylvia’s tiny body.

I look up at Faith, who has a mixture of shock, hatred, and confusion in her eyes.I’m almost certain she’s about to kick again, despite her misgivings, when a shot rings though the forest.It doesn’t strike anything, but Faith looks to her right, then turns and bounces away.The last thing I see before I fade to black is Jet stepping in front of me, carrying someone on his back.


	4. Epilogue

I wake to a chipper tune, a clip of video game victory music I use as a ring tone. I let it cycle a couple extra times while I wiggle out from under the covers, then pick it up.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” says the cheerful voice on the other end of the line.

“Hi Tracy,” I say, smiling in spite of my grogginess.

She hums in a playfully scolding way, and then says, “Ah, stayed up too late playing games again, I see.” She giggles. “I hope you didn’t forget about today.”

“Yeah, Quest of Fire Six is coming out, right?” My devious grin is wasted on the empty room.

Tracy laughs. “You giant butthead!” She adds in a more serious tone, “I have a special present for you, so you better not skip your own party.”

“A party? Oh yeah, yeah, I think I penciled it in. We’ll see if I can fit it into my schedule.”

She giggles. “You’re so catty when you wake up.” I’m sure she’s poking her tongue out at me, so I return the favor. “Anyway, I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yokay,” I say. I give her a superfluous salute, and then hang up.

It takes me a few minutes to roll out of bed before I start getting ready. I have to resist the urge to take a hot shower. It’s cold outside, and I don’t have time to blow dry my fur. Besides, I took one last night so it’s not like I need it. I do spend about a half hour brushing though.

I finish getting ready about an hour after my wakeup call. I do a last minute check in the mirror by the door, then head out. I pass one of my neighbors on the way to the street, and we share a friendly greeting. The cool air outside nips my ears, but that’s preferable to the closed off feeling I get when I cover them up. My hearing never fully recovered after that… difficult business a year ago.

On the train I struggle, as usual, to find a place to sit where my tail won’t get in the way or get pinched by the door, so I end up standing tucked away in a corner. A few people spare me an extra glance as I get on, but for the most part they don’t pay any mind. There is a kid sitting across from me who’s utterly mesmerized. I give him a little wave, and he giggles and waves back.

Two trains later and I’m walking out the station nearest the Walker’s house. I arrive a half-hour later, just as the last light of the sun is slipping past the horizon. The door is unlocked, so I step in.

I catch Sylvia as she’s walking in from the kitchen. She stops and looks at me. We stand like that a moment, before she says, “Congratulations on your second year of employment.” She scurries up the stairs before I can answer.

Still, I yell, “Thanks,” after her, before taking off my boots and joining Grant in the living room.

“Hey kiddo,” he says. “Glad you could make it.” He laughs. “And early to boot.”

I laugh back. “You can thank Tracy for that.” I take a seat near him. “How’s Sylvia doing?”

Grant hums thoughtfully, then says, “Pretty well, all things considered.”

“I can’t thank you enough for taking her in,” I say. “After what happened with h— with Sebastian…” I shake my head. “You’re a good guy, you know?”

He smiles. “Thanks, you’re a good kid yourself.”

We chat for a half-hour or so, when we’re interrupted by a knock on the door. I offer to get it, and outside I’m greeted by the sight of an orange furred fox woman. I can just barely see a werewolf behind her.

“Steph!” Belle yells. She jumps in and wraps her arms around me. “Long time no see.” She’s beaming.

I smile back. “It’s only been a month,” I say. “But come in, come in.” She lets me go and we take a few steps inside so Gary can join us before closing the door. He’s got something cradled in front of him. “How have things been with you guys?” I ask. “Have you gotten your IDs all sorted out?”

“Really well, actually.” Belle grins. “And yeah, Argentina finally stopped dragging their ass and got a passport issued for Sofie last week.”

“Ah, perfect. Will she be heading home then?”

Belle shakes her head. “I think for now all of us have decided to stay at the cabin, make it into something of a demi-human retreat, you know?”

“Yeah, you’d talked about that, but I thought you were hurting for money. Have you had some luck finding jobs?”

Belle smiles. “Yes, a little, but actually, well”—she rings her hands—“we got a visit from Faith…”

I try not to frown, though I’m not sure I manage. I have some mixed feelings about the rabbit woman, though I guess she prefers Wood Walker. I think my feelings would be a lot less mixed if she’d visited at least once since we parted ways in Switzerland… after she kicked my chest in.

Belle continues, “She, um, she signed the cabin over to us, and the surrounding land, and gave us some money to do a little development.”

I shake my head, let out a long breath, and then smile up at Belle. “That’s great news,” I say. “I know you guys have been having a hard time getting settled, so that should help a lot.”

“Yeah, that’s not all,” Belle says. She’s positively radiant now. She glances back at the woman who followed her in, then back at me. “Oh, by the way, this is Yuna, you’ve met.” She chuckles.

“You picked a new name?” I say to the werewolf. She nods. “I love it! It totally suits you.”

“Th-thanks,” she says. “I-I figured, I might as well pick one I liked.”

Belle gives her a poke, then says, “Go on Yunie, show her.”

Yuna blushes, but then holds out the bundle she’s holding. I see an adorably little baby face poking out of her swaddling.

I gasp. “Oh my god! She’s so cute!” I can’t help but give her cheek a careful pat, before I turn to Belle in confusion. “B-but I… I thought…”

Belle pulls the cloth away from the girl’s head, revealing a tiny pair of rabbit ears.

“O-Oh? Wha…?”

“Faith asked us, if we really wanted to, if we wouldn’t mind looking after Minerva for her,” Belle says. In response to my continued confusion, she adds. “She said she plans on having quite a few of them, and, well, wants them raised, like, you know, regular kids, as much as possible.” She’s smiling sheepishly.

“Congratulations!” I give Belle a hug, and then say. “I’m sure you’ll be a great mother.”

“Th-thanks,” she blushes.

“You too, Yuna.” I add. The wolf woman blushes in response.

We retire to the living room and spend an hour chatting amongst ourselves. Grant is in and out of the kitchen, and at some point Sylvia seemingly materializes out of thin air into the chair opposite mine. She doesn’t say much, but does at least seem to enjoy listening. Eventually Tracy joins us after work, and we start dinner.

After everyone’s had their fill, and we’ve bid the other guest farewell, Tracy takes me aside and starts pulling me up the stairs. She looks down at me with a playful gleam in her eyes, and says, “Are you ready for your present?”

“Can I get a hint?”

She grins impishly. “It’s complicated.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed. :) 
> 
> Please feel free to share any thoughts or questions.


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